On Stranger Tides
by IlluminatedShadow
Summary: Matthew finds himself taken prisoner by the dread pirate captain Arthur Kirkland's crew after killing the ship's navigator. The dread pirate is intent on making him miserable. He should have never agreed to wear that dress. pirate!AU
1. Chapter 1

To the reviewer (you know who you are -stern look-) who repeatedly mentioned a dark pirate!story with just UKCan. Here you go!

-smirks- Except its _IlluminatedShadow_'s take on dark and pirate and UKCan. OHOHOHO~

Yeah, so I might take prompts. But don't expect it to be perfect because I'm a free spirit and all that shit.

...Okay, I'm sorry. I am kinda picky, I try not to be. I've already got another UKCan (two words: street performer :D) in the works. You guys know what pairings I write so don't be upset if I don't actually accept a prompt.

Anyways, I had a blast writing this. Probably one of my most favorite things I've written.

Warnings: pirate!au, cross-dressing, slash, language, OOCness, fail (lots of it) and inappropriate mood whiplash

Pairings: Guess. :)

Disclaimer: It's a good thing I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

><p>Matthew bit back a hissed curse as the pirate manhandled him to the center of the deck, pushing him down onto the worn wooden planks with a sneer. Violet eyes glared hatefully at the visibly unwashed man and when the other gave him a wide smirk in return, decayed teeth and gaps greeting Matthew, the blond turned away and stared steadfast towards the stern.<p>

"She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" Another pirate sniggered and Matthew's expression darkened further.

If his sister survived the attack on Port Royal, he would murder her.

His fingers tightened in the top most layer of fabric, crinkling the expensive satin. He almost couldn't breathe with the corset shoving his insides together—and no wonder Amelia was in a foul mood whenever she had to wear the blasted things—and he was practically drowning in petticoats and chenille lace and ribbons. His hair, normally held back with a simple ribbon, was loose and in ringlets around his face. He had lost his sister's favorite hat sometime in the struggle, more concerned with fighting off three pirates with a rapier while his sister, her fiancé Lord Bonnefoy and Amelia's true love (and her fiancé's younger sister Madeline) fled to safety.

Oh what he did for his sister's happiness.

Matthew wasn't pleased when Amelia rushed into his room and held his face in her hands and admitted that she was smitten with Lord Bonnefoy's younger sister Madeline and wouldn't he please accompany her that night for dinner so she could charm her and oh, by the way, you must pretend to be me so as to distract my fiancé.

"We are going to hell for this." Matthew had hissed at her from behind a lace fan.

Amelia, hair pinned back cleverly and wearing his best doublet, had merely pinched his cheek and smiled smugly.

Matthew almost wished he was in hell.

He was staring down at the soft pink fabric, ribbons and bows fluttering down his chest and the high collar that disguised the fact that he was not a woman. He shuddered and tightened his grip on the skirt, sickened by the loud, raunchy frivolity of the crew. Matthew was, however, glad to be here because it could very easily be his sister or Lady Madeline and he didn't think he could bear the thought of that.

And, he thought with a glimmer of vicious satisfaction bubbling in his chest, he had managed to kill one pirate in the struggle before four others rushed to subdue him.

"This bitch has a temper." Another pirate, still bleeding from the sting of Matthew's rapier against his cheek, had snarled, grabbing his hair and _tugging_ in rage.

Matthew's scalp burned, his pride stung, and he wanted the dread Pirate Kirkland to just show up so he could get this entire night over with.

Port Royal was smoking in the background and the sea was surprisingly docile despite the destruction that had happened hours before.

"The Captain won't mind if we have ourselves a little taste?" Another pirate mused aloud, elbowing a crewmate. "Get the bitch nice and ready, yeah?"

There was a murmur of agreement and Matthew felt his stomach clench and twist.

But, it was then, that a door slammed open, wood echoing, and was followed by deliberate footsteps making their way down the deck.

Matthew held his breath, seeing the worn black tips of boots enter his line of vision.

"So." The newcomer began, tone almost casually cavalier. "This is the girl who killed Thomas?"

No one responded.

"And whom injured John?" The man was now circling around Matthew, his gaze on the other's downturned head. "This is the girl who managed to hold off the lot of you and needed to be bashed about the head before she could be contained?"

Matthew almost smirked, the throbbing at the back of his skull a testament to the other's words.

The pirate stopped after completing a circle. "You, missy." He began, one gloved hand settling on Matthew's head gently. "You are quite the fantastical woman." He mused before his grip tightened like lightning and he tugged Matthew to his feet. "I hate those sort of women." He said darkly and Matthew was forced to meet his eyes.

Eye.

The dread pirate Captain Arthur Kirkland had one bright green eye (the other hidden by a black leather eye patch) and it was focused directly on Matthew's face.

Matthew gulped, a little fearful of the rage on the other's face. But the captain had redirected his fury to the crew, though his grip on Matthew didn't falter.

"And you lot." He wasn't yelling but enough malice dripped from his words that the crew was cowed. "A mere girl in petticoats and gloves kept you busy and not even in pleasure." He sneered, shaking Matthew for emphasis.

"She had a rapier." One pirate ventured cautiously.

Without even glancing at the man, Captain Kirkland pulled out a pistol and shot him in the head. The man dropped and the rest of the crew scarcely drew breath.

"Any more excuses?" The man asked casually, pistol still smoking and leaning casually up to his temple. When no other spoke, he put it away. "Perhaps, lads, I need to remind you what you should do with lovely ladies, especially when they make you look like buffoons, instead of dragging them back to my ship." The Captain paused, giving Matthew a faintly apologetic look. "Begging your pardon, miss." He said with a sardonic nod.

And he ripped open the bodice of Matthew's dress, tearing through the ruffles and silk easily. Matthew, violet eyes wide open, began to struggle, putting up a decent fight as he shoved and kicked and clawed at the other man.

The pirate merely smirked, fingers shoving up the mass of skirts. "I rather like some fight in my whores."

The rest of the crew jeered as Arthur managed to get Matthew down to the deck, pressing his weight against the other. Matthew lashed out, kicking him hard in the shin and earning a furious glare. The tussle, perhaps playful in the beginning since Arthur believed Matthew would swoon upon having his virtue compromised and still decided to underestimate the 'woman' who put up a good fight, turned sour with Arthur actively trying to pin Matthew down but the blond continued to twist and grunt and even got a few good hits in.

Finally Arthur slapped him and Matthew, a little stunned, just blinked and waited in terror as Arthur shoved aside masses of lace and layers of fabric to grope at his stocking covered legs and up to his undergarments. And Matthew began to struggle anew, thinking that if this was how a gentlewoman was treated, how would a young lord be?

But Arthur snarled at him to be still and Matthew felt the other's gloved hands squeeze his thigh and then skirt his privates and then brush across his soft member and still.

And the Captain, eye narrowing and monstrous eyebrows furrowing, stilled for a split second before widening.

And Matthew took the opportunity to punch him.

* * *

><p>The entire boat was silent. Even the ocean stilled and the breeze dared not blow.<p>

The crew stared in shock as their captain jerked back, hand coming up to cradle his cheek where Matthew had struck him, the area already turning red.

Matthew, breathing heavily, scrambling back, rearranging the skirts and heart racing in his throat. He managed to gather himself, pulling together the tattered bodice and holding it together in an image of propriety.

"Wench." Arthur hissed, green eye sparking with cold anger. "Take her to my quarters."

* * *

><p>Matthew was thrown against the bed unceremoniously, catching himself against the carved post as he slid down to his knees, forehead pressed to the unyielding wood. His knuckles throbbed and he felt cold and he couldn't breathe and he was sca—<p>

It seemed like forever until the Captain entered.

Matthew glanced up at him, eyes red and wary.

But the Captain seemed to ignore him, taking his time to pull off the scarlet waistcoat and tricorn with the long, white feather. Next, he poured himself a bit of rum from a decanter on the antique table, the light of dawn glinting off his gold rings and catching on the glass.

Matthew could only watch.

Finally, the man spoke "Strip." He said coolly, taking a sip from the glass.

Matthew had already lost much of his dignity. He would not hand the rest over willingly.

The Captain, sensing this, sighed and said, his sandy hair falling into his face. "Or I can turn this ship around, find your sister and let my crew at her." He smiled, deceptively gentle. "Months at sea without a woman's soft skin. It's terrible."

"You're despicable." Matthew retorted, voice carrying a tremble.

The man shrugged and gestured for Matthew to get on with it.

Matthew, feeling the rocking of the waves under him and thinking that they couldn't be too far from shore, stood, barely stumbling despite the steady rocking, and began to struggle with the complicated ties and slick fabric of the ruined dress. Eventually he managed to shrug off the top of the dress, the pretty pink fabric crumbling around his sharpness and falling to his feet as he stepped out of the gown in just the corset and chemise.

The pirate smirked. "You call yourself a man." He mocked.

"Still more a man than you." Matthew responded evenly, cheeks red in humiliation and restrained rage. "You filthy pirate."

"Sticks and stones, love." Captain Kirkland responded, smirk not diminishing.

"I will see you hanged."

"You and the rest of London, I wager." The other regarded him coolly. "Need help with that blasted thing?"

"I'd sooner die." Matthew snapped lowly and within three steps, the dread pirate captain had shoved him face first into the bed and was kneeling behind him.

"Listen up, boy." He hissed, hand gripping the ties of the corset in the back and tugging so Matthew gasped at the added pressure on his ribs. Spots of black sparked in his vision and Matthew whimpered when the other pulled harder. "You killed one of my best men, injured others, and almost made me look like a fool in front of my crew." He tugged harder, ribbon entwined between his fingers, and Matthew gasped, tears beginning at the corners of his eyes, as his torso was pulled upwards and he was parallel to the other man, his warm breath at his ear. "If death is what you seek, seek it elsewhere because I will have my revenge even if I have to drag it out of your pretty, little mouth."

* * *

><p>Matthew was confined to the Captain's quarters for the next few weeks, forced to wear the tatters of the gown and sleep next to the man.<p>

"You did come as a woman." Captain Kirkland had mocked when Matthew struggled to put on the gown in the morning. "And that color is so lovely on you, m'lady."

Matthew hated the pirate. He rarely hated, preferring to ignore and overlook others since he was so barely noticed next to his vivacious younger sister that he was never slighted terribly.

The Captain never physically touched him, but his torment came in other forms. Matthew was forced to continue his charade. He was forced to share a bed.

The first night, Matthew had stubbornly stood there and swore to sleep on the floor. The Captain had dragged him to bed and lashed him to the bedpost with rope. Matthew had struggled even after the pirate fell asleep and was rewarded with wrists rubbed raw and bleeding down his forearms.

This had continued for a week until Matthew acquiesced and went quietly.

But he did not sleep the first few nights. Between the rocking of the boat and the endless terror and endless longing for home, he perhaps was only granted a few, fleeting moments of rest and he would be exhausted come dawn.

* * *

><p>Matthew lay quietly, watching as the other man's chest rose and fell. Then, slowly, the blond sat up, chemise rustling (what? He wouldn't sleep nude!), taking a better look at his captor.<p>

The pirate was snoring quietly, moonlight casting long lines across his face and highlighting the broken tilt of his nose and the faint, pink scar across the flat, slightly drooping eyelid of his right eye that was normally hidden by the eye patch. To say the truth, Matthew had expected a grotesque mess of skin, discolored and hideous, under that piece of leather. But, it seemed only slightly off-putting.

Matthew wondered, off-handedly, it happened. The dread pirate captain was still a brilliant shot.

He leaned over, ignoring the golden baubles the other was found of wearing in his ears and the loose linen shirt the other donned for bed.

The man, sandy hair mussed and mouth slightly parted, was asleep.

Matthew, lips pursed in thought, made a decision.

And he was about to bring his pillow down on the other's face, intent on smothering the slumbering pirate, but the gentle cocking of a pistol accompanied by cold metal pressed to his stomach stopped him.

Eyes still shut, the other said, calmly, "Rather uncreative, don't ye think?"

Matthew reluctantly lowered the pillow and held it to his chest. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it when no words came.

So, the pirate, eyes still shut, removed the pistol. "Go to sleep, git."

* * *

><p>He was decently fed, eating the same things the Captain would have but he'd be treated to an entire dinner of the other watching him with barely disguised interest and amusement and Matthew often found himself lacking an appetite. The Captain often teased him, dragging the other to the edge of tears and almost liking the frayed bits of Matthew and tugging at them whenever he felt the urge to bully.<p>

The breaking point came when Matthew found a weevil in his bread and pushed away the plate, sharp nose upturned when Arthur glanced at him.

"This isn't your manor, my lord." The other said coldly. "The cook slaved the entire day in the galley for this meal and you ought show some respect."

Matthew would've retorted with a scathing comment on how respect was earned and that no pirate would have his respect but instead he remained silent, fonder of the silent treatment because he realized that the pirate liked it when he fought back.

So he didn't.

The other tilted his head, a vaguely cruel smile growing on his lips. Then, purposefully, he picked up the wriggling thing and held it up to Matthew's lips and ordered, "Eat it."

Matthew shook his head, repulsed and Arthur, undeterred, brought the thing to his lips, his other hand cradling his skull, and Matthew grabbed his wrist and soon it turned into another altercation with Arthur swearing at him and Matthew turning his face away.

Finally Matthew slapped his hand away and, in doing so, managed to topple his chair over and hitting the ground sparked something in him and weeks of being trapped on the ship and at the pirate's mercy came to a head and something held taut snapped and Matthew broke.

Arthur just watched as the younger man began to sob, giant tremors overtaking his body as he cried into the planks. Face hidden in his arms and that ridiculously feminine dress pooled around him, Matthew cried.

* * *

><p>Matthew's sobbing began to taper to silence, tears drying on his chapped cheeks and eyes burning. He slowly straightened, wiping his face roughly with the lacy sleeves as well as his dripping nose, ignoring the pain in his lower back as he looked around the empty cabin.<p>

The dinner was forgotten on the table and the weevil seemed to be watching Matthew from the table.

Captain Kirkland was gone.

The moon filtered through the single window with its wooden frame and cast crosses on the ground and Matthew, stray sobs overcoming him ever so often, pushed his self off the floor, embarrassed by his moment of weakness.

Amelia had forced him to eat leaves as a child and even a worm on occasion as a dare and she, in turn, digested a fair share of detestable things during their childhood in England.

But that was his sister and this was a despicable criminal who merely wanted to break him.

And he let him win, Matthew noted bitterly, rising to his feet and glaring at the now filthy pink of the dress. He was tired. He was of the forgotten now. Who knows if his family were still looking for him. And on top of it all, he was filthy, foul smelling and grimy and he was fairly certain his own mother wouldn't recognize him if she were to see him again.

Seeing his reflection in the polished silver that the pirate had on the wall, Matthew almost didn't recognize himself either. His blond hair hung in tangles around his face and his face was shiny and Matthew grimaced upon glancing at his fingernails and ruined wrists.

If his nanny was here, she'd kill him.

Cleanliness was next to godliness.

She was of the opinion that people should bathe more often, especially in the Caribbean heat.

Matthew just smiled ruefully at his reflection and, ignoring the cold food, picked up the weevil and put him on the window frame.

* * *

><p>The next day, the boat wasn't moving.<p>

Matthew opened his eyes, blinking blearing and catching sight of the pirate pulling on his worn, leather boots, his white shirt rustling as he adjusted his cutlass, paying him no mind and giving no indication of the previous night.

The blond sat up and tried to stand but found himself stuck. Eyes widening, Matthew strained his neck and caught sight of ropes tying him to the headboard.

"Can't have you escaping on us, can we?" The pirate said quietly, a haughty expression on his face. "Besides, there be bad men out there with a fondness for pretty things." He added, a laugh in his tone. Then, a foot away from the door, the pirate said, quietly, "It's best if ye get used to this. This is your lot. Accept it."

Matthew flushed and settled for glaring as the Captain exited, locking the door behind him.

* * *

><p>It was night when the Captain came back, reeking slightly of rum and perfume. "Come on then." He muttered, untying Matthew and dragging him off the bed, growling when the other stumbled. "You stink and I won't have you ruining the sheets."<p>

"You could put me in the bilge." Matthew suggested snidely but the pirate paid him no mind, leading him out of the room and down the gangplank.

Captain Kirkland led him to a hovel of a hotel, past his crew who were elbow deep in merriment, loose women, and rum and up a creaky set of stairs to a fairly clean room with a tub set up in the center.

Then, shoving Matthew towards the tub, he said, "Wash yourself. I even got you something better than those rags." And he left, leaving Matthew to wash.

Matthew waited five minutes before opening the door and coming eye to eye with a burly man with jagged scars across his face and barrel chest.

"Captain's orders." The man said in a gruff voice, giving the other a disdainful look.

Matthew pressed his lips into a thin line and slammed the door, heading towards the window and prepared to climb down. But, just as he leaned down, a shot rang out and he felt his hair flutter, a few golden strands falling pathetically to the ground.

He quickly withdrew his head and stamped his foot in frustration, crossing his arms and glaring at the chipped tub of water.

Then he began to disrobe reluctantly, letting the ruined fabric fall to his feet before he made his way to the tub and slipped into the lukewarm water.

* * *

><p>"Brought you a bit of soap." Arthur's voice interrupted his furious scrubbing before something hit the water.<p>

Good grooming prompted Matthew to murmur a quiet thanks. He grabbed the tiny soap from the bottom of the now murky water and lathered it up between his palms and began to smooth it across his arms and chest and scrubbing it into his hair, even lifting his legs from the water and giving them a cursory swipe.

He stiffened when the pirate came next to the tub and knelt, tilting his head and watching him with a curious eye.

Matthew began to lower his leg, feeling very uncomfortable but the other stopped him, cradling his calf with one hand.

"Unhand me." Matthew said quietly.

"For a genteel young master, your manners are atrocious." The pirate mused aloud.

"And for a pirate, your manner of speaking is suspect." He responded and the pirate grinned at him, revealing a gold tooth.

"I was once a boy of good breeding, love." He whispered. "But I much prefer being a gentleman o' fortune than a dandy and slave to the fashions of the French court." He let go of Matthew's leg and instead focused on fussing with Matthew's wet curls that clung to his cold cheeks. "But, upon meeting you, love, I have lost whatever good fortune I had." He smeared the gold across Matthew's cheeks, the leather of his gloves catching strands of hair. "You killed my navigator—why he was off the ship, I haven't the foggiest so perhaps he deserved it. Now, we be stuck in a town full of ninnies and tits and no one who can read a bloody map." His hand stalled and Matthew almost braced himself for a slap.

But Arthur merely patted his face lightly and stood up. "Come on then." He demanded. "You're clean enough."

Matthew merely stared at him. "Could you leave?" He waited for the pirate to do so as he had in the past.

"I could, but I shan't." The sandy-haired man shrugged and smirked. "Besides, can't have ye trying to escape again."

* * *

><p>Matthew glowered, this time in a more revealing, crimson dress that was meant to push up a lady's bosom but did nothing for him. White lace spouted from long red sleeves and at least this time he did not have to wear a corset. And that it was clean.<p>

"Not much of a woman, is she?" One crewmember sniggered as they passed.

"Not much of a woman at all." The Captain said cheerfully, earning a round of laughter as they crossed the deck.

Matthew took it in stride, having heard it all before. His face was a shade too feminine and, if it weren't for his glasses (which were now lost, probably in pieces in Bonnefoy's parlor) and well-tailored suits, he'd be able to pass easier as a woman back home. However, Amelia, his twin's face was a shade too masculine. Her jaw was square and was cursed with broader shoulders. She wasn't small and was always too loud to be a proper lady.

* * *

><p>"Don't look so insulted." The Captain rolled his eyes, pushing Matthew into the room and shutting the door. "The rest of you is dainty enough."<p>

"I will rejoice when the floor gives way beneath your feet and you're left to rot as a warning to others of your kind." Matthew vowed, gathering up his skirts and curling up on the bed, his back to Arthur.

"…You're more bothersome than a real wench."

* * *

><p>"Here."<p>

Matthew stared at the bit of apple hanging onto Arthur's dagger and then glanced the pirate.

"No, thank you." He demurred, going back to methodically shredding his bread for weevils.

"Wasn't a request." Arthur said coldly, the sharp tip of the blade suddenly pressed to Matthew's lips. "Won't put myself or the crew at risk because of your delicate sensibilities, now eat the bloody fruit or I will make you."

Matthew could feel cold steel against his lip and, eyes frosty, he obediently opened his mouth and neatly took the bite of apple, earning a semi-pleased look from the other. Once he finished chewing, Arthur had sliced another bit of the green fruit and was holding it to his lips.

There was a cold, heavy sort of tenseness, then, and Matthew felt a strange pressure on his chest, fearful, almost, of the way Arthur was looking at him. It was predatory, as it always was, but there was something else in the depths of his eye and Matthew, grudgingly, had come to count on the other's quiet snoring and cold idiosyncrasies and this was horrifyingly new and Matthew, shaken, reluctantly accepted the next bite and the next and the next. The sweet tartness of the apple's juice mingled with the old taste of leather on his lips and Matthew shuddered when the other smeared some lingering stickiness across his cheeks as he cradled his face and leaned in.

Matthew turned his face and shoved the pirate away, scrambling out of his seat, back to the door and body coiled in wariness.

But the pirate captain merely shook his head and laughed, hollow and cold, before giving him a mirthless look. "Of course, of course." He leaned back in his seat, imperial and statue-like, and watched Matthew.

* * *

><p>One day, Matthew managed to pick the lock and stepped out onto deck.<p>

And all the bustling stopped.

Arthur, up on the quarterdeck, looked down, having realized that no one was answering his commands.

Matthew met his gaze evenly and then, admitted with a little shrug, "I just wanted to see if I could. I'll go back, no need to drag me by my hair." He sighed and started to head back inwards before Arthur interrupted.

"Try not to be a nuisance or I'll have you lashed to the mast in your drawers." He drawled, before turning on his heel and barking for the rest of the men to get back to work.

"Women, tits or not, are bad luck on a boat." Someone whispered loudly.

A gunshot rang out and that man fell to the deck, blood pooling around his head.

"Oh bloody hell." Arthur swore. "Was that the new navigator?"

"Yes, cap'n!"

Arthur swore again and stormed down the stairs. He glared at the corpse, eyebrows knitted, and then sighed. "Can't be helped."

"Perhaps if you didn't keep shooting every man who spoke at you wrong. What's wrong with a flogging?" The first mate pointed out, quietly, his dark eyes almost annoyed.

"Well perhaps if the men realized not to speak when I desired no response, I wouldn't have to shoot them, now would I, my dear Welshman?"

Matthew returned to the Captain's quarters. Maybe tomorrow.

* * *

><p>"Didn't expect ye to grace us with you presence." Arthur mocked, green eyes flicking over Matthew who was attempting to undo the laces in the back of the crimson gown.<p>

"I just wanted some fresh air." Matthew huffed, fingertips grazing the topmost tie between his shoulder blades, his arm at an awkward angle.

He was just about to try another angle when he felt the pirate move directly behind him and place his hands on his biceps.

Matthew stiffened, nose wrinkling when the other, smelling of salt and sweat and spice, pressed closer, his nose poking the crook of Matthew's neck. Scowling, the blond was prepared to elbow him when the other's hands began to trail down his arms, briefly squeezing his fingers, before falling to tangle in the voluminous skirts. But he didn't say anything, cheeks burning, as the hands pressed against him, despite the mass of fabric, molding against his thighs before swooping upwards, one on his waist and the other splayed against his stomach, pulling him close.

"I am not a woman." Matthew whispered, cold fear settling in the pit of his stomach.

He could hear the smirk in the other's tone, feel the sharp slit of a smile against his neck, when the other whispered, "I know." And his hands slithered upwards, cradling the flat bust of the gown. Matthew barely felt the hands, could only feel the pressure, but it didn't hold back the shudder of disgust.

"Do I repulse you, pet?" Arthur asked, innocently, still cradling Matthew's nonexistent bosom.

Matthew was well aware of the strangeness, thank you.

So am I. Painfully so.

The dread pirate didn't care.

"Even after my kindness? My hospitality?" The other whispered and Matthew stared down at the gold and green rings that adorned scarred fingers that looked at home on the blood-red fabric. "I even let you share my bed."

"The dread pirate captain Arthur Kirkland pays his respects to sin, dines with the Devil, and frightens even cruelty." Matthew retorted, heart racing and hoping Amelia would not hate him terribly for dying.

But Arthur just hummed thoughtfully. "Oh, is that what they be saying?" He pressed a kiss right at Matthew's pulse point. "Actually, pet, I dine with you. You're not quite the devil but please, lead me to sin and I'll pay my respects." His voice dropped, tone dark and curling as he added. "With pleasure."

* * *

><p>The door slammed open, ricocheting off the wall, as Matthew sprinted out onto the deck, wheat blond hair blowing in the furious evening wind.<p>

The crew that was out there gave him strange looks as he passed.

"Women." One man said quietly to a stocky red head.

The red head snorted, thoughtfully stroking his stubble as he watched the blond start climbing up to the crow's nest.

"Woman!" Arthur stormed out, in just his trousers and white shirt and boots, and shook his fist at the fleeing blond. "Get down here!" He bellowed.

Alistair, the red head, snorted and walked up to the furious captain. "You could shoot her." He suggested. "I mean, haven't you already had at her? Surely she isn't that good." He waggled his thick eyebrows at his half-brother and smirked when Arthur snarled at him. "Unless you haven't had her…"

"Of course I have!" Arthur snapped. "The hours I spend between her thighs…" He faltered briefly, trying to recall his last encounter with any woman. "Her supple thighs…and milky skin..." He trailed off.

"…She hasn't let you touch her, has she?"

Arthur grimaced and thought of the boy—and what was his name? he should probably ask soon—and realized that the boy would probably either throw himself overboard or cry if Arthur ever attempted to fuck him. He sighed and gave the other a dark glare. "Don't be so loud, ya bastard." He grumbled. "Should just throw the wench overboard."

"Want me to go talk to her?"

"I'd rather James went."

"Because Jamie knows how to talk to a woman." Alistair snorted. "I'll go get her majesty."

* * *

><p>"I'm not coming down!" Matthew shouted shrilly, the raging wind drowning his soft voice. "You can kill me first. Or...or I'll jump!" He started to hoist himself over the edge of the tiny lookout.<p>

"Calm down lass." The pirate rolled his eyes, navy blue eyes holding his gaze evenly as he stood, hands up soothingly. "What did Artie do?"

"He…" Matthew trailed off, suddenly realizing he ran out of the room because Arthur had kissed his neck. "…he kissed my neck."

"Oh the horror." The other said dryly. "No man will want you now."

Matthew glared, cheeks heating up. The longer he was in a dress, the less masculine he felt. He could practically feel his manhood shrivel.

And, knowing Amelia, his sister was probably having a blast wearing his trousers and doing deviant things with Lady Madeline.

…He never did fully consider the implications of his sister's indiscretions, did he?

"She's so dainty and soft-looking." Amelia had daydreamed. "I just want to kiss her brea—"

"Amelia!" Matthew had chided, shoving his sister into a quiet corner and out of sight of the Bonnefoy girl she was openly ogling. "Stop saying such things in public!"

Matthew was snapped out of his daydreams by the pirate bowing low, his shaggy red locks flowing loose. "Alistair Kirkland. Quartermaster and keeper of his wee brothers." He gave Matthew a roguish smile and Matthew hesitantly returned it.

But if this pirate attempted to kiss him too, he would jump.

* * *

><p>"That was just uncalled for." Arthur sighed, staring at the blunt knife sticking out of his shoulder. "And it bloody well hurts too." With a put upon sigh, he tugged out the utensil with a grunt, its surface slick with blood, and gave Matthew a displeased frown. "My patience be wearing thin, boy." He warned, waving the bloody knife at Matthew. "And, frankly, I be a little hurt too. Perhaps I'm too soft on ye. No dessert."<p>

"You're _mocking_ me!" Matthew blurted out, before remembering that he had just tried, again, to kill the incredibly dangerous captain and was probably a well-placed word from death. He blanched and sort of curled in on himself.

But Arthur seemed uninterested in murdering him. "And this was my favorite shirt." He sighed, plucking the stained fabric between two fingers with distaste. "Better mend it—"

"I don't know how—"

"Not you." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Probably prick your finger and fall asleep and I'd have to kiss you awake and you'd probably run crying back to the crow's nest and only Alistair—that wanker—could get you to climb down." There was a moody, annoyed gleam to his words that Matthew didn't understand. "Why'd ye do it anyways?"

"What? Stab you?"

Arthur laughed, short and sharp and bitter. "Nay, I know why ye did that. You hate me. Why'd you run off?"

"Er…" Matthew blushed. "You frightened me."

"You weren't afraid of a stampede of pirates but the moment a man kisses ye, you run for the hills?"

"You're a pirate." Matthew said quietly, fiddling with a loose bit of lace on his sleeve.

"Still a man." Arthur said quietly, green eye focused on Matthew.

* * *

><p>"You know…Art used to be a sweet boy." Alistair said conversationally one day, sweeping Matthew up and placing him on a barrel near the main mast as the rest of the crew bustled around them and as the swabs swabbed the deck, dirty water spilling over the sides of the majestic ship and into the waves.<p>

"Was he?" Matthew said airily, having been foiled again that morning when he tried smother Arthur with a pillow at dawn and was denied breakfast as punishment, keeping his voice whisper soft as he watched the activity around them.

The Scottish man nodded emphatically. "Used to be all honey and tears…then he went away for schooling, came back…different. Joined the Navy, did fine and then…just walked away at one port. Comes back, years later with those ridiculous trinkets and missing an eye." He coughed, scratching the ginger stubble on his chin. "And our Ma begged us to keep an eye on him and so Jamie and I did. Regretted it since then, but, blood is blood."

Matthew nodded, catching the fleeting fondness in the other's tone and knew he didn't really regret it.

He didn't really regret switching clothes with Amelia that night either. And he'd do it again and again if necessary. Hopefully she was alright.

He didn't want to think too much about it, however, lest his thoughts turn dark.

"I know you're trying to kill my brother—and I'm not about to stop you because the idiot needs it—but, he's a good captain. He keeps these morons in line by being hard and fair and killing one or two now and again. But, if you're just trying to kill him for the principle of the matter, well, that's silly, lass." Alistair paused, briefly. "PETER. GET BACK TO WORK, YA BRAT." He shouted, catching the tiny cabin boy off guard and causing him to fall off the pile of crates where he was trying to reach the parrot someone had bought at the last port.

The parrot flew away, its bright emerald and yellow feathers fluttering, as the bird shrieked, "Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!"

Matthew hid a smile at the disgruntled and sulky expression on the boy's face as he stormed off. Alistair, in turn, grinned at him and tousled his hair. "You're a good lass. I'll get ye something nice next time we spot land, Margie."

* * *

><p>"Do you even know her name?" James asked, snapping the telescope shut and handing it off to another crewmember.<p>

Arthur grunted, watching as Alistair and Matthew conversed. Then he promptly ordered the Scot to get back to work and turned on his heel, pacing on the quarterdeck and avoiding the helm.

"It's Margaret, Arthur. Margaret." The Welshman added. "And, you know my opinion of the matter. Women do not belong on a ship."

Arthur stilled. Margaret? He glanced at Matthew. The boy did look like a Margaret. Maybe it was related to his real name?

"—and furthermore, we need to get rid of her. Either ask for a ransom or leave her at a port."

"No." Arthur said firmly.

His other brother gave him a hard look, before it softened and he sighed loudly. "You poor bastard. You're besotted."

* * *

><p>"I am not besotted." Arthur said darkly.<p>

Matthew looked alarmed. "I should hope not." He wrinkled his nose at the dread pirate who was taking a swig of rum at his desk. He fiddled with a piece of pink ribbon in his hands and held it up to his hair and looked at himself in the mirror. "I can't do anything with my hair." He tsked, tugging lightly at the messy tangles. "It's too short and, bless Alistair, but this ribbon doesn't match my dress."

Arthur stared at the rim of the bottle and said, off-handedly with a shrug, "I think you look nice regardless."

There was a beat of silence.

Both men blanched.

"I hate this!" Matthew wailed. "I hate _you_."

"Oh, as though _I'm_ enjoying this." Arthur spat, slamming the bottle onto the sturdy desk. "Do us both a favor and just jump overboard!"

* * *

><p>"…Twit." Arthur muttered, staring down at the waterlogged and shivering blond.<p>

Matthew gave him a withering look, hair plastered to his skull and a fine film of salt smeared across his face from when he tried to wipe it with a soggy sleeve. He opened his mouth to speak but instead began to cough, eyes watering, and seawater bubbling out of his mouth.

Alistair rolled his eyes and patted the shivering blond's back and murmured something soothingly over the other's hacking.

With an annoyed huff of air from his noise, Arthur, annoyed at seeing the way his brother fussed over Matthew, knelt down and picked up the wet and miserable boy, the sodden layers of the skirt hanging over his arms as he carried Matthew, not sulking, back to the cabin.

* * *

><p>In the cabin, Arthur quickly began to undo the laces of the other's gown, pulling the soaking fabric down wet skin and ignoring Matthew's indignant sputters.<p>

"Don't want to get sick, do ye?" Arthur snapped, green eye flashing. Matthew quieted and let the other unpeel his clothes. "Won't have you infecting the entire crew, either."

Once Matthew was undressed, the pirate threw the soaked dress in a corner of the cabin and grabbed a blanket from the bed, opening it with a flourish and wrapping it tightly around the now shaking boy.

Then it occurred to him.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Matthew." Matthew said, violet eyes downcast. "And I'm not going to call you Arthur, pirate."

"Then I'll keep calling you 'git'." Arthur rolled his eyes.

There was silence for a moment, Arthur just rubbing the rough wool against the other to warm him.

"I want to go home." Matthew whispered, curling in on himself. "My father would pay any ransom. And haven't you tormented me enough for your crewmember's death?"

Arthur didn't grin. "Don't want ransom." He admitted. "Are you so miserable here? You've even made friends."

Matthew gave him an incredulous look. "Alistair and Peter are good, that is true. But the rest of your crew gives me dirty looks. They attempt to flip up my skirts. You keep me in that ridiculous gown. You bully me. You—"

"You've tried to kill me." Arthur pointed out, tilting his head. "And I've put up with your ungrateful hide. You're fed, you're not in the bilge. And yet you still find reason to complain and insult me."

"_You're a pirate._" Matthew emphasized. "And you had me kidnapped after you pillaged my home."

"Is that it?"

"Isn't it?"

"The lady doth protest too much, me thinks."

Matthew stared at him, eyes impossibly wide. "If I could, I'd punch you." He finally said, indigo eyes narrowing.

Arthur merely smirked and pulled the blanket tighter before tugging Matthew closer to him. "If I could, I'd fuck ye."

And, as he realized early on, Matthew attempted to run out the door.

And Arthur let go of him, only to watch with a grin as the blond tripped, tangled in the cocoon, and fell onto the hard wood. Landing with a thump, Matthew, cheeks bright pink, swore loudly. In French.

"Oh lovely. You speak French too." Arthur noted, disdainfully, stepping over the blond who was now grappling with the blanket.

* * *

><p>Yeah...there's more. I'll post it later, if there's interest. -shrugs- It was getting ridiculously long haha.<p>

Also, Matthew is in a dress because, well, Arthur is a dick and I kinda like putting him in dresses. I don't get to do it often. Also, I think that Matthew (and Alfred for the matter) could probably pass as girls in the right outfit. Also, Matt is maybe around 16 here so he's about Arthur's height.

And, yes, Arthur is missing an eye. Alistair is Scotland and James is Wales. They're based off the popular OC designs. Also, Amelia is fem!Alfred and Madeline is fem!Canada. Alfred might make an appearance in the next part. No this will not be a threesome.

Arthur's speech is weird because I didn't want to write all pirate speech or proper speech. He was from a well-to-do, educated family so his speech fluctuates at times. Also, I didn't give Scotland a Scottish accent or Wales a Welsh accent. It's distracting to me and I felt silly trying.

Arthur's also not phased by Matthew's attempts to kill him. It's not the first time people have tried to murder him. XD

Also, this is not a comedy. Nor is it an angst-fest. This could get darker. And more navigators might just die.

...So...how was it?


	2. Chapter 2

WOW. -blushes- What a response guys! So many lovely reviews. I honestly did not expect to update so soon but I couldn't help myself. This fic has everything I've ever wanted to write. And it helps that people seem to enjoy it. So, hopefully, this next update is good enough.

I plan to finish this out. So, no worries. This will be completed. And, since I'm fairly inspired, it might be finished even faster!

Also...someone mentioned fanart? :D -shot-

Warnings: previous warnings apply, AU, slash, inappropriate mood whiplash, language, OOCness, stupidity, me having way too much fun with this entire AU

Pairings: You guys know~

Disclaimer: Thankfully, I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

><p>"Was that really necessary?" Matthew asked, a note of hysteria in his voice, as he hurried attempted to staunch the fallen pirate's wound with his handkerchief. But the blood continued to spill out, dripping from the sodden kerchief and spilling down his thin fingers.<p>

Arthur stared down, mouth twisted in distaste, as the blond cradled the fallen man in his arms, pressing hard against the bleeding wound. Then, purposefully, he raised his pistol again, silently chastising himself for not giving the crewmember a swift death. "Get back, girl."

"Why?" Matthew asked, voice shrill, blood warm between his fingers. The man gurgled, blood spilling out from his open mouth. "Oh, he's still alive—" He was cut off by Arthur grabbing his upper arm and dragging him up and away, dropping him roughly against a barrel and snarling for him to stay there.

And then Arthur, deadly calm and precise, walked over and shot the man directly between the eyes, face stoic. Matthew, kneeling behind the captain, stared in horror.

This wasn't the first time Arthur had killed a man in the time Matthew was on the ship.

But…this was George. George who was the longest lived navigator on _Queen Elizabeth's Revenge _since Matthew's arrival_._ George who had caught Matthew when he tripped over a loose coil of rope because he didn't see it. George who pulled him out of the water the second time he jumped overboard because Arthur called him a self-centered brat.

"You killed George!" Matthew snapped, rising to his feet and holding his skirts so he didn't fall over. His violet eyes sparked dangerously. "You despicable waste of life!"

The crew, who had barely batted an eye and were already busy washing blood off the deck, stilled and stared at the wench who just blatantly insulted their captain.

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. "Now listen here, you miserable shrew." He hissed, taking a step forward. "I have had enough of your constant whimpering and whining and nagging." His green eyes were bright and sharp. "I have been nothing short of generous and patient and rather than showing some grace and civility, you stand here and _berate_ me?" His accent sharpened, all traces of coarseness gone and replaced with sophistication and ice. Arthur closed the distance between them, gloved hand reaching out and grabbing Matthew by the yellow ribbons on the front of his gown and shoved him against the wall of the ship, bending the blond uncomfortably over the portside wall. "I have had it, boy." He whispered, bending down, his lips at Matthew's ear. "Get in the blasted room or so help me, I will do much worse than what George attempted."

"What?" Matthew stopped struggling, his grip on the other's wrist loosening.

"Did I stammer?" Arthur snarled, grasping Matthew's face with his other hand, squeezing the pale skin.

The nobleman's eyes widened in panic, for a moment, and swallowing heavily, he whispered, "George didn't attempt anything."

Arthur stared at him. "I saw it with me own eye. He was molesting your person."

"I tripped." Matthew raised a slender brow. "He was helping me up."

The dread pirate's face smoothed out, rage vanishing slowly. Then he leaned away, loosening his grip on Matthew, letting the boy straighten slightly. Matthew, however, had just let out a shaky breath when an unexpected blow to his cheek caused him to stagger to the left, raising his hand to gingerly soothe the sting, the smack of metal from the rings leaving pain, and giving the pirate a hurt, stunned look. But the older man merely returned it with a dark glare.

"Now we lack a navigator thanks to you. Again!" Arthur whirled on his heel and looked murderous.

"Well, perhaps if you hadn't shot him." One pirate pointed out.

Arthur turned on him, pistol raised and eye glinting. Thankfully, James stepped forward and said, "That's the doctor!" And Arthur reluctantly lowered the firearm and made a dismissive grunt, glancing at Matthew from the corner of his eye, still cradling his cheek.

* * *

><p>"You think the wench cast a spell on Cap'n?" A pirate said nervously to his crewmate, fixing the rigging. "He's more mad than usual."<p>

The other pirate just shook his head. "Shut yer mouth before he comes out here and shoots us too."

* * *

><p>"You could at least apologize." Matthew said stiffly, giving Arthur a frown, lashes lowered as he glowered at the other.<p>

Arthur, working at his desk, his overcoat and hat abandoned, just responded blithely, "Whatever for, love?"

When he was met with silence, he looked up and saw the other's bruised face. Then he sighed loudly. "I'll buy ye some powder at the next port. Maybe some nice baubles. Would that please you?"

"You're horrid." Matthew retorted evenly, rising to his feet and striding across the room and stopping at the desk. "How could you just kill him?"

"Listen close, pet." Arthur said lightly, lifting up the quill and brushing the soft black plume against Matthew's bruised cheek. The blond jerked his face away. "No one on this pirate ship is guaranteed the chance of seeing the sun rise. Not even me. The crew could vote me off, mutiny maybe. It's been done." His expression turned dark at the memory. "Peter could fall overboard and the sea could claim him before we could pull him out. Each of those men know I can and will kill at random, as a warning." He grinned, cruel and malicious. "Even Alistair—my dear brother—is not safe."

Matthew's face twisted in worry. "You wouldn't." He fretted, fingers twisting together.

Arthur scowled, jealousy pricking in his gut at the concern Matthew so easily displayed for the Scotsman. He was a pirate too. He drank and fucked and cursed and yet the prim and proper brat had no problem with him. And, with a sneer, he added, "I would." And, rising, he became eye level with the blond, putting down his quill.

Matthew was about to pull away when Arthur touched his bruised cheek, gently, thumb brushing over the swollen curve, the mottled dark coloring blending in with his gloves. And, leaning closer, Arthur whispered, rum-sweet breath smoothing over Matthew's lips, "Unless there be a reason to impel me to leave him be."

Matthew trembled under his touch, fighting the urge to push the other off. And it bothered Arthur.

"Six months, pet." The green-eyed man whispered. "Six months and not a single, sweet word. And yet, I see ye tell Peter stories in storage. I see ye with James and Alistair. There's even a kind smile for the swabs. And yet, the man who has secured your life receives such coldness. You're in me debt, love."

"If you would just take me home, I'd be more than happy to pay the debt." Matthew said lowly.

"I don't want your money." Arthur gave him a lazy smile. "Got more than enough and there's even more out there for the taking." His hand drifted down, catching in the open neckline of Matthew's butter-yellow gown, dragging down the delicate lace lining and revealing more of the sharp line of the other's collar. Arthur leaned down, lips pressing softly against the revealed skin. When Matthew moved to push him, the dread pirate slammed down the other's hands onto the oak and pressed warningly, almost crushing the other's bones under the heels of his hand. Matthew turned his hand, longer hair brushing against Arthur's cheeks and the pirate groaned, feeling the rush of the other's pulse under his lips.

"Stop." Matthew warned, voice surprisingly stead despite his fluttering, racing pulse.

"Why don't ye beg?" Arthur suggested airily. "Cry, even?"

"…Fine." Matthew spat out after a moment of tense silence, voice thick. "I'm already indebted to _you_. Just do it. I don't care anymore." And Arthur could feel the slump of the other's shoulders, sloping downwards and the fleeing of fight.

And Arthur could've been a good man and backed away. But he hadn't been a good man in a long time. So, instead, he raised his hands and pulled Matthew closer, almost tugging the blond onto the desk, his fingers digging into the bodice. Matthew muffled a swear, sore hands scrabbling at the desk when the pirate stopped giving a damn and just pulled him up, Matthew's knees knocking painfully against the wood, papers crumpling under him. He might have gasped but Arthur took the opportunity to claw at the front of the dress's bodice, ribbons and lace giving way under his harsh ministrations, trying to get at warm flesh. Open-mouthed and teeth dragging down pale skin tasted the staccato of Matthew's heart and the blond closed his eyes tightly, blocking out the other's downturned sandy hair and the feel of leather against his skin.

When the other pulled away, admiring the scarlet blossoms of his ministrations, Matthew hesitantly opened his eyes and refused to meet the other's gaze. But Arthur took is chin between his thumb and forefinger and dragged his face towards him. And, with surprising delicacy, the dread pirate pressed a firm kiss against his lips.

"Was that so bad?"

* * *

><p>"Has she been up there the entire day?" Arthur asked coldly, glancing up at the crow's nest.<p>

"Yes." James answered, glancing at his younger brother from the corner of his eye. The captain was standing tall, staring upwards with narrowed eyes, his scarlet waistcoat whipping in the wind.

"Never going to have cute nephews to spoil." Alistair said moodily, feeding the parrot a bit of hardtack.

James sputtered. "A ship is no place for women! Let alone children!" He sounded scandalized.

"As though you don't want a babe to rock and spoil." The redhead sniped, stroking the parrot's plumage with a calloused fingertip. "Arthur's already hideous. He needs a woman with beauty in spades to make up for his ugly."

"Do you want to dine with the fish?" The dread captain asked icily, now using his spyglass to try and catch sight of Matthew. "And you're not getting nephews anytime soon." Or ever, really.

"Of course not." Alistair snapped. "Because you did something to upset the lass. She's more skittish around you than normal. And you bruised her pretty face."

"Because she's an insufferable nag who is convinced I will force myself on her. Again."

"…And yet you cannot fathom why she'd believe such a thing?"

"The wench is just complaining for the sake of ruining my good favor." Arthur muttered, snapping the spyglass shut and shoving it into his pocket. "Brat." He added, for good measure.

* * *

><p>"Land ho!" Matthew suddenly called out.<p>

"Who let her play lookout?" Arthur shouted. The boy wasn't supposed to be having a good time!

"Nathan is up there with her."

"This isn't a bloody nursery!" the sandy-haired man bellowed. "Get her down now!"

"I'm sure she'll come down once we dock in Tortuga." Alistair said. Then he looked thoughtful. "Think the lass would like some hair combs?" He addressed James, but gave Arthur a dirty look. "Since _someone_ threw her ribbons into the sea for the mermaids to have."

"The mermaids could sink our ship and still deserve those blasted ribbons more than that pain in the arse." Arthur said under his breath, frustrated with Matthew's stony silence and the glimmer of fear that remained in his eyes.

"You should talk to her if you intend to keep her." James sighed, placing a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezing gently. "It might do you both good."

"As long as she doesn't cover her ears and pretend I'm not talking." Arthur said snidely.

Alistair laughed, loud and booming. He slapped the captain on the shoulder cheerfully. "Like you did that morning she followed you around and scolded you for bullying Peter? Say what you will, but the lass has more spine than some men."

Arthur's scowl deepened and his brows twitched.

* * *

><p>Arthur was grateful the rest of his crew had disembarked and it was just he and Matthew.<p>

Because Matthew was acting like a child and Arthur was about to slap him again and he didn't need Alistair's disapproving glare.

So he took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, and exhaled noisily. "Why are you being so difficult?"

Matthew looked away, nervously fiddling with the frayed lace at his cuffs. "I just don't want to go into town right now."

"_Why_?"

The blond blushed and Arthur hated that the light caught the other just the right way and made the other's cheeks look rosy and soft. "Can't I go in the evening?"

"You go now or you rot in the cabin until we leave." Arthur said sternly.

Matthew frowned and continued to play with the frayed edge of the cuff. The bruise on his face had faded to a sickly green with a shading of yellow and it clashed terribly with the pink of his cheeks. Arthur didn't like looking continuously at the proof of his slip in self-control.

Then, Matthew reached up and self-consciously hid the splotching with one hand and looked down. "I'm tired of those women staring at me and twittering behind their hands about how I look."

Arthur stared at him in disbelief. "How does it matter? You're not even a woman." He stressed.

Matthew's head snapped up and his expression was a mix of anger and humiliation. "I know!" He hissed. "And don't you think I hate it? Woman or not, how dare they mock my state." His lips trembled. "I don't want to keep hearing about how frail I look or that my complexion is pallid or that my dress doesn't fit. And they're going to see the bruise and my hair is a mess and they're going to laugh and I shouldn't care but I never used to go out in public without looking my best and now I look like a pirate's whore and I don't like it." He finished, looking pitiful.

Arthur laughed.

Matthew punched him. Hard.

* * *

><p>"Still sulking?" Arthur hummed, shutting the door behind him and giving the other a crooked smile.<p>

Matthew glared at him and looked away, arms crossed.

"Don't be so cross, love." Arthur chided, still smiling. "Brought you some things that might cheer ye up." He tossed a wrapped package at Matthew who caught it easily.

"Is it stolen?" He asked, giving the poorly wrapped package a distrustful look.

Arthur snorted. "'Course it is. Only the best for my high-functioning whore."

Matthew looked like he was going to throw the bag at his head but thought better of it and instead settled for giving the other a tight-lipped smile and then ripped open the thin paper.

It was a fan. A soft purple one with white lace edging and smooth black wood.

Matthew opened it, the purple matching his eyes, and ran reverent fingers across the soft fabric.

"And what is the price for this?" Matthew asked quietly, haltingly.

Something in Arthur twisted and dropped and he turned away. "Just come into town and take a bath. You smell."

* * *

><p>Matthew was clinging to his arm, fan open and hiding most of his face, just his eyes and lashes peering over the lace. Arthur nodded to anyone who glanced their way, feeling Matthew stiffen when a gaggle of women passed by, giving him cursory glances.<p>

"They're judging me." The blond whispered.

"To think you killed Thomas." Arthur sighed. "They're just women." When Matthew looked away ashamed, he added, voice hard and quiet, "Stand up straight and have some pride, boy. Will you let them continue thinking that they're better than you or will you remind them that they must be jealous?"

Matthew was quiet for a moment before he straightened slowly and gave the fan a soft flick, eyes resolutely ahead.

"That's a good whore."

Matthew discretely elbowed him. Arthur just laughed.

* * *

><p>"What the bloody fuck is wrong with you?" Arthur shouted, dragging Matthew through town, the distant sound of shouts following them.<p>

"He groped me!" Matthew shot back.

"So you hit him with the fan? That is _not_ why I bought it for you!" The pirate snapped, giving Matthew a deliberately hard tug, causing the blond to stumble. Though, secretly, he was impressed by the way the other had managed to turn a fairly flimsy fan into a weapon of destruction.

"Well, everyone else—including you—was too busy drinking to defend my honor." Matthew said snidely. "Even Alistair defended the woman entertaining him and she would go to the highest bidder anyways."

"You can be a cruel little bastard." Arthur said. "Also, perhaps if you were entertaining me, I'd be more inclined to protect your womanly virtue. …And did you ever stop to think that that poor woman has to make due with what she has and not everyone is as blessed as you, young master?"

Matthew realized what he implied (correctly, though, but still) and gasped in shame. "I am horrible." He bemoaned as Arthur dragged him down another alley. "God forgive me…"

"Hang all. You're religious, too?" Arthur swore, shoving the blond into another alley and shoving him against the grimy wall and dragging him deeper into the darkness lest their chasers see them.

A rat scurried by and something crawled up Matthew's leg. He grimaced. "I'm filthy."

"Perhaps if you just smiled and walked away instead of beating that man around the head, you could have a nice warm bath." Arthur snapped, still looking out for their pursuers.

"It's bad enough that you molest me." Matthew said quietly. "I won't have other filthy stranger doing as he pleases as well."

Arthur paused, glancing at the blond who was staring at his emerald brooch. "Need I remind you, pet, that I have earned the privilege to touch your sacred skin?"

"So you say. However, the Navy won't even care if I signed a contract with you." Matthew said lightly, a vaguely mocking smile on his lips. "You will hang regardless."

"So ye see why I can't simply stop." The pirate grinned at him, leaning close and bumping their noses together. "I have to get my jollies somehow before my final days."

Matthew's nostrils flared and Arthur neatly dodged the punch that followed. He was about to start taunting the younger man again, when loud cursing drew his attention out of the alley. Then, hushing the other violently, he threw off his coat and attempted to grab Matthew's leg and hoist it up.

"What are you doing?" Matthew yelped, shoving Arthur but the pirate merely ignored him and shoved the blond up the wall, forcing him to wrap his legs around his hips.

"Making sure neither of us gets killed." The sandy-haired man snapped. "Now do not throw a fit or lest you wish to lack a tongue."

* * *

><p>Matthew, arms crossed and a furious blush on his face, waited at the mouth of the empty alley way as the pirate captain came up behind him.<p>

"It's a perfectly natural reaction." Arthur reasoned. "Why ye be so offended—"

"You were aroused." Matthew said curtly, not looking at the other. "I am mortified."

"Ye should be flattered. I am rarely attracted to infuriating brats." The pirate put on his coat and adjusted his hat. "What I can't understand is how you could sit there like a bloody statue."

"Some of us have self control."

"'Tis a little hard to have control when one finds oneself in such pleasant company." Arthur leered. "I be referring to your welcoming thighs of course. The rest of you isn't as hospitable."

"This is exactly why I can't stand you!" Matthew whirled around, uncharacteristic anger in the twist of his mouth and the glimmer of his eyes. "You're foul and arrogant with an inflated sense of entitlement."

"Forgive me if I'm not inclined to courtesy." Arthur bowed mockingly with a flourish of his arm. "Particularly towards you."

Matthew bit his lip, a little unwilling to acknowledge that the pirate was right. He had been acting, in particular, recently, terribly. But that didn't excuse the pirate's actions.

And he said as much. "And don't even use the 'I am a pirate' excuse." The blond added.

* * *

><p>The walk back to the cheap inn was silent with Matthew refusing to speak to Arthur after the other had used the 'But I <em>am<em> a pirate' excuse. When Matthew tripped on an uneven edge of stone, Arthur grabbed him and pulled him upright.

"Watch it." He said gruffly.

If anything, the thoughtful frown on the other's face deepened and the silence between them thickened.

Arriving in the inn, they were greeted by a raucous of laughter and men waving their tankards at them, cheering Matthew's earlier moment of self-defense. Matthew merely rolled his eyes, a little pleased that maybe now the crew would give him a little more respect and think twice before flipping his skirt when he happened to smile politely at them and also a little annoyed because all those drunken bastards just sat there and kept making merry when that crook grabbed him.

Arthur led him up the creaky stairs, their path lit only by a few torches. He locked the door behind them and ushered Matthew towards the bed.

"Can bathe in the morning." He said, voice allowing no argument. "Too exhausted to bother."

Matthew just shrugged, crawling into bed and turning outwards, curling into a ball as the bed dipped and creaked when Arthur got in next to him and blew out the lamp.

And, after a few minutes of staring out the window at the inky sky speckled with stars, Matthew rolled over and tugged lightly on Arthur's sleeve.

"Oh bugger all." The pirate groaned, looking over at him, eye patch off and single green eye impatient.

"I'm sorry." Matthew whispered. "For my behavior. Even though you are a terrible person—actually, sometimes I think you're not even a person, just a monster—but that is no excuse for my behavior."

Arthur just looked at him.

Matthew looked back, expectantly.

"Apology accepted."

"…and?"

"I am not apologizing for wanting to fuck you. There is nothing wrong with it."

Matthew sighed, tiredly. "That's not it. Just…never mind." He was about to roll over when Arthur grabbed his arm. And then he violently flinched before forcing himself to relax.

"I will try not to arbitrarily kill people of whom you are fond in front of you from now on. I will also, henceforth, give you greater warning when I plan to force myself upon you."

"Or you could not do that at all."

"Fine. But I cannot held be accountable for my actions under the influence of rum."

"…You're usually under the influence of rum."

"Take it or leave it, love." Arthur shrugged wryly.

Matthew frowned. "You must also stop hitting me."

"As long as ye promise to stop making attempts on my life."

"Unless you deserve it." Matthew protested.

"Then I reserve the right to keep you in line any way I see fit, including, but not limited to, hitting you."

"Including what else?" the younger man asked sharply.

"Whatever it takes to get you to stop being a pain in the arse."

There was a moment of tense, hostile silence before Matthew laughed faintly, the sound easing the growing tension. "This is ridiculous."

Arthur's scowl flickered, something softer in his face. "Aye. But if it'll get ye to go to leave me be and sleep."

Matthew gave him a helpless little smile and rolled over. "Good night, pirate."

"At least preface that with captain, git." Arthur huffed. He didn't say anything else, but Matthew felt the thin sheet being dragged over his shoulder.

Matthew's smile didn't fade.

* * *

><p>Matthew awoke to the sun burning onto his face. Grumbling, he rolled over to the cooler side of the bed, face buried in the flimsy pillows. Unwilling to give in to full consciousness, the blond wavered on the edge of sleep. It wasn't until he heard the sound of water, he sat up, groggily, and blinked.<p>

Arthur, pouring a jug of water onto his head, paid him no attention as he scrubbed the soap out of his hair. Lean muscles flexing and scars stretched grotesque across his arms and chest, the pirate was all sun-darkened skin and sharp lines and ruin. Then, shoving dark, soaked spikes of hair out of his face, he stilled, catching sight of Matthew over the curve of his bicep.

"Don't stare." He chided, a tilted, roguish smirk playing on his lips. "Aren't ye the one going on and on about how rude it is."

Matthew frowned at him, scrubbing at his eyes and flopped back onto the bed. "Not staring." He said primly, voice thick with sleep. "Nothing to stare at."

Arthur rolled his eyes and went back to smoothing back his hair, water sluicing down his neck and the curve of his back. And Matthew fell back into a light sleep, interrupted only by the pirate rejoining him in bed and dodging the half-hearted swat Matthew gave him when he leaned over the blond.

"Leave me alone." Matthew demanded. "You're hovering."

"Give us a kiss and I might." Arthur teased, still finding endless pleasure in unnerving the younger man. He pulled at Matthew's collar and leaned down to kiss the topmost knob of his spine.

"What did we agree last night?" Matthew warned, scooting away.

"I said I wouldn't force me self on you. There's no force now, is there?" Arthur said flippantly, continuing to litter kisses down the bumps of the other's spine. When Matthew jerked away and gave him a hateful glare as he climbed out of bed, the pirate, shirtless and lounging only in his black trousers, just shrugged. "Pirate."

"Bastard." Matthew corrected coldly.

"Mm, prefer the term scallywag." Arthur grinned. He reached up and grabbed Matthew. "Come back, love. The innkeeper will be up to change the water. Come and play my blushing whore."

* * *

><p>"Am I interrupting something?" the pretty brunette asked, eyebrow raised, when she opened the door and saw Matthew, sheets wrapped around him and shoulders bare, pressing the pillow down on Arthur's face.<p>

"Not at all, Belle." Arthur grinned, grabbing Matthew's wrists and rolling the two of them over. Then, dropping a firm kiss onto the sharp tip of the enraged blond's nose, he rolled out of bed. "Just a bit of morning delight." Shrugging fluidly, the pirate grabbed his shirt and began to put it on, buttoning the pearl buttons as he left, winking at the unimpressed woman.

Matthew, on the other hand, hair mussed and downright furious, just glared at the man the entire way out. Even after Arthur left, the captive was still narrow-eyed and sulky.

"He has that effect on most people." Belle said gently, green eyes soft. Then, eyes scrutinizing, she glanced over the other's features. "Good heavens." She exclaimed, one hand on her hip. "You poor boy."

Matthew looked at her slowly, a look of horror dawning on his face.

* * *

><p>"You do make a lovely girl." Belle comforted, stroking his still damp hair as she bustled around the kitchen. "But why do you put up with it?" She looked furious as she set a place of fresh waffles in front of him. "That cur. I'll give him a piece of my mind." She waved the wooden spoon threateningly and Matthew smirked, more than ready to see the petite blond go after the pirate.<p>

"Well, I have done my fair share of ruining his days." Matthew said off-handedly, digging into the golden-brown waffles. "These are amazing."

"Of course they are." Belle smiled. "I made them, darling. But how dare he treat you like this?" She was outraged and storming around the kitchen.

"I suppose I'm used to it. I don't enjoy it but I suppose it's flattering. Though I wish women paid as much attention to me as he does." Matthew sighed. He was rather invisible back in Port Royal. "I can deal with him being attracted to me and at least he's stopped threatening to…" He trailed off, realizing he was talking to a woman.

Belle shook her head, understanding the unspoken term. Honestly, Arthur could be such a child. Coveting and bullying. That's all the pirate could do well. It was pathetic.

"And every time I try to escape, he has me pulled from the ocean or locks me in the cabin or ties me to the mast. The crew doesn't even laugh anymore. They don't even watch when we fight."

Belle rolled her eyes.

Men.

* * *

><p>"At least take some pride in your appearance." Belle scolded, smoothing the rouge across Matthew's cheeks. "A little oil in your hair…some powder…maybe even lip coloring."<p>

Matthew shook his head and tried to lean away. Belle glared.

"Hold still. If you must keep up this charade, at least try to be more convincing. Women will be able to identify you as male if you do not be careful and not all of them will be as understanding." She put both hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. When the boy looked appropriately contrite, she smiled sweetly. "You have beautiful hair."

"What did you do?" Arthur asked, stunned, when he walked in the kitchen, searching for his wayward captive when he didn't find Matthew in the room.

Matthew gave him a miserable look. His sun-bleached hair was pulled back with a white ribbon that matched the lace on the powder blue gown Arthur picked up in town yesterday.

Belle, on the other hand, smiled proudly. "Doesn't he look nice?" She gave Arthur a meaningful look.

"I suppose he looks like an expensive wh—" Arthur cut himself off when Belle's eyes widened and she shook her head warningly.

* * *

><p>"…She's a tough woman to say no to, isn't she?"<p>

Matthew sighed and limply looped his arm with Arthur's offered one as they moved through town. "I miss wearing trousers."

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?"<p>

"Making the most of a bad situation." Matthew said lightly, turning the whalebone comb over in his hands. It was delicately carved with intricate swirls making up the teeth. "I feel terrible deceiving everyone, especially Alistair. He'll probably hate me if he finds out I'm male." He said wistfully. "He keeps giving me such nice presents. I hate accepting them but I don't want to offend."

"I give you presents." Arthur said under his breath. "He'd probably still adore you." He added, louder.

Matthew looked disbelieving but held the comb up to his hair and, pulling a few strands back, slid it in the back and looked at himself in the polished silver. He stared at himself for a moment, expression cracking just so before he steeled himself, hands curling into fists at his side.

* * *

><p>The boat rocked dangerously, the sound of cannon fire and men yelling fading into a dreadful cacophony as wood splintered and Peter yelped, clinging to his waist.<p>

"There, there." Matthew said soothingly, patting the boy's sandy hair and not at all phased by the naval battle occurring outside. Arthur had banished both him and Peter to the cabin and locked them in and told them to wait and if, on the slight possibility they lose, to shoot their selves with the pistol he so kindly left behind.

Peter had been kicking and screaming, red-faced and bitter that the pirate had refused to let him fight. But, the moment that the canon fire started, he took refuge in Matthew's arms, shaking and claiming to only be comforting the blond, you know, just in case she was afraid.

Matthew had sighed and just calmed the boy down, trying to get him to tell him about his self.

"I'm going to be a great pirate lord!" The boy had proclaimed, green eyes sparkling. "As soon as that jerk Captain Kirkland lets me have my own sword, I'll take over this ship!"

"That sounds like mutiny." Matthew had smiled at the boy's enthusiasm.

He preened. "I know." Peter had smiled smugly before he looked cross. "The Captain just laughed when I told him. But I'll do it! I swear! And I'll make my papa proud. He was a famous pirate captain too!"

Matthew tilted his head thoughtfully, examining the other's thick eyebrows and coarse hair. "Oh?" he had said curiously. "Is that why you joined this crew? To find him?"

Peter had just nodded proudly.

Now Matthew was regaling the cabin boy with a made-up story, pulling out details about mermaids and krakens and a fountain of youth and a dashing Caribbean pirate with a compass that led one to his or her heart's desire. It was enough to distract the child from the battle raging outside and eventually, as the sun set and the explosions ceased and the boat calmed, Peter fell into a light slumber and Matthew was left to quietly fret.

When the door opened, he couldn't keep the relief off his face when Arthur, haggard but smirking, leaned in the open doorway, face smudged with sweat and soot and blood, missing his hat but looking to be in one piece.

"He alright?" He nodded at the child resting his head on Matthew's lap.

"As brave as his father." Matthew said softly, indigo eyes knowing.

Arthur opened his mouth before thinking better of it and shaking his head. "Good for him." He said nonchalantly, stepping into the room. To be honest, he had been surprised to see the blond still there, serene and unperturbed. He half expected Matthew to make a run for it. And to see him there, pistol at his side and Peter calmly snoring on the opposite side and the setting sun casting gold and red and violet across the room and getting lost in his hair, well, Arthur found himself gravitating closer to the pair, kneeling at Matthew's side.

Matthew gave him a curious look but Arthur didn't speak, pulling the boy into a loose hug. The younger man froze but when the pirate didn't do anything else, he relaxed.

"I'm glad you didn't die." He admitted. And he was. He didn't know Spanish and didn't expect the same accommodating treatment from the terrifying Captain Carriedo. Also, after almost seven months, he was getting used to the detestable dread pirate Captain Kirkland.

"That's probably the kindest thing you or anyone has said to me." Arthur snorted. "Worry not, git, I won't mistake it for fondness."

Matthew worried his lower lip before, feeling rather bad of his earlier treatment of the pirate (though it was completely warranted, he maintained), cautiously, saying, "I doubt Captain Carriedo would bring me back such lovely dresses."

There was a moment of silence between them before Arthur laughed loudly and even Matthew smiled.

* * *

><p>"You're not going to give a little something to Margaret?" James asked casually, raising a dark eyebrow.<p>

"Why would I?" Arthur asked, more interested in sifting through the Spanish treasure. He compared a golden ring with a ruby imbedded in it to one with a pretty blue stone.

"This would like nice against the lass." Alistair said, holding up a dangling pendant with a polished red stone. "Shame she doesn't have much up top, otherwise it would look perfect between her—"

Arthur snatched the necklace from his brother. "She is not entitled to any of this." He tossed the necklace back onto the pile, choosing the ring with the ruby. "Put aside my share and take yours and divide the rest for the crew. Valiant men, all of them." His voice was gruff with pride.

"You say that. But…that ring is for her, isn't it?" James asked dryly. "Wouldn't she prefer something more…delicate?"

"The wench nearly took off my head this morning with a book. Delicate hardly describes her." Arthur answered dismissively, secretly ready to add 'delicate' to his teasing of Matthew.

"…You didn't deny it." Alistair grinned slyly.

* * *

><p>Arthur didn't give the ring to Matthew, instead tossing it into the recesses of his desk.<p>

Not like the blond would agree to wear it anyways.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, irritated and sweaty. The sea hadn't been kind to them recently. The wind had stalled and the ship had stayed in the same place for the past five days. The air had thickened and stagnated, hovering above the deck and trapping the sun's rays.<p>

Everyone was short tempered, restless, stripped down to trousers and breeches, and skin burnt from the harsh sun.

Matthew, unable to do the same, stayed in the sweltering cabin. And Arthur found him, splayed out on the bed in only a chemise, the gown rumpled on the floor. The violet-eyed man looked sullen, cheeks flush with the unforgiving heat and head throbbing. He sat up, giving Arthur a questioning look.

"Nothing." He answered honestly.

"Oh, so basically the same as always." The dread pirate said snidely, striding to his desk and grabbing a map, more annoyed with the suffocating heat and lack of progress than with Matthew's slothfulness.

"Well, I'd be happy to help." Matthew retorted. "Oh wait, the entire crew thinks I'm a girl." Then deflating, he added, "I don't mind helping if you need another set of hands."

Arthur laughed coldly. "Yes, your dainty, soft hands will be well-suited to fixing rigging and pulling rope."

"So we are back to childish insults?" Matthew asked, stung and bristling. "_Fine_."

* * *

><p>"You did <em>what<em>?" Alistair's mouth dropped open.

"You heard me." Arthur said defensively, still walking a little bow-legged, before yelling at some midshipmen to stop lazing around, no you do not have heatstroke you wankers, get back to work!

"But did you really have to drag her down to the bilge?" James asked, a little appalled at the way his younger brother had hauled the young woman, who shrieked the entire way in French (James knew some French and if Arthur knew some as well, he'd have shot the woman without question—infatuation or not), while Arthur, stone-faced, merely tightened his grip on her elbow. "Why not lash her to the mast?"

"And listen to that harpy scream at me for the rest of the day?" Arthur snorted. "I'd rather bow to a Frenchman."

"In the lassie's defense, you do act as though you're overcompensating for someth—" Alistair began before finding himself nose to nose with Arthur's pistol, gunpowder residue irritating his nose.

Though, to be honest, it had happened numerous times before so the redhead wasn't really terrified.

* * *

><p>No one dared mention that the last time Arthur lashed Matthew to the mast in such heat, the blond had passed out and been almost unresponsive for an hour and that Arthur had almost skewered the doctor with his cutlass.<p>

* * *

><p>"And then he pushed me onto the bed and said he knew the perfect way to shut me up." Matthew ranted, pacing the tiny cell, kicking up water from old puddles as he stomped.<p>

Alfred just looked sympathetic. "Artie's never been good with ladies. And the heat doesn't help." He said graciously and Matthew smiled at him, though he knew Alfred couldn't see it.

Alfred Jones was Arthur's first mate who, years and years ago led the mutiny against him and was a pirate captain in his own right before a shipwreck left him blind and half-dead.

Arthur had found him and, for reasons Matthew didn't quite understand, brought him back and kept him in the bilge. Alfred had just shrugged and gave Matthew a bright smile, saying it was Arthur's own brand of kindness.

"He wouldn't know kindness if it sunk this stupid ship." Matthew had said bitterly, taking a seat on an old crate.

Alfred sitting in the hammock just shook his head. "Arthur complains about you too." He said, a secretive smile on his face. "Did you really stab him with a butter knife?"

"Twice." Matthew admitted.

The former pirate laughed loudly, head thrown back, his laughter filling the cramped room. "You are a brave, little lady." He said, once his chuckles died down, blue eyes twinkling.

Matthew blushed, grudgingly accepting the compliment.

"And don't worry." Alfred added consolingly. "Arthur will get over it. Whatever it is."

"I insulted his manhood." Matthew said delicately.

Alfred blinked.

Matthew clarified. "Literally."

Alfred burst into another fit of laughter.

Matthew didn't add that he also kicked the dread pirate in said manhood, to add injury to the insult.

* * *

><p>Alfred reminded Matthew a lot of Amelia and the boy was struck by a sudden longing for his twin, wondering, not for the first time, if she was alright. Though, it had been a while since she filled his thoughts and, for that, Matthew felt guilt settling thickly in the back of his throat.<p>

"I'm worried for my sister." He admitted to Alfred. "I don't know what's happened to her…what if she's…" He trailed off, fingers knotted in the overcoat he had thrown on before Arthur dragged him out of the cabin.

"If she is anything like you, then she must be fine." The other reassured. "Though, if you want to see her again, maybe you should let Arthur cool off for a few days?"

"I doubt I will see her again in this world." Matthew said glumly.

"Oh, you're religious too?" Alfred sniggered. "Bet Arthur loves that." Then, sobering, he scolded the younger man. "Have some faith, Maggie."

* * *

><p>"I'm not going." Matthew said firmly.<p>

Arthur glared at him. "Fine. You can stay here the entire night." He said with a note of finality.

"Fine with me!" Matthew glared back.

"She can share my hammock." Alfred said, beaming, a mischievous edge to his words.

* * *

><p>"I hate you." Matthew sulked, arms crossed.<p>

"Sticks and stones." Arthur said airily, patting Matthew's rump as he carried the blond up the stairs.

No sooner had Alfred spoken, the dread pirate had stomped across the tiny cell and lifted a shocked Matthew over his shoulder, not even flinching when the other began to struggle.

Arthur wasn't the strongest on the ship, but he could easily deal with a pampered noble who had never done true hard labor in his life.

Of course, Matthew did managed to kick the other in the stomach before Arthur pinned his swinging legs with both arms.

"It's so nice when lovers stop quarrelling." Alfred had chirped as the pair left, much to Matthew's consternation.

* * *

><p>Arthur tossed the blond onto the bed and just stared down at him, looking imperial as ever. He had abandoned his ornate, crimson doublet and leather gloves in the heat and had settled on the loose white blouse tucked into his trousers that, in turn, were tucked into worn black boots. His fingers glimmered with rings and Matthew could even see the gold hoop the other had hanging from his pierced ear.<p>

He wrapped his long overcoat around him tightly and looked away from the sandy-haired man. But Arthur took a seat next to him on the bed, placing an unwelcome hand on Matthew's thigh. Matthew moved away with a scowl but Arthur, patience running thin, grabbed his wrist tightly.

"Are we back to _this_ now?"

"You are the one who started it." Matthew said icily. "I have been trying to be civil but your actions today have proved that you are incapable of keeping our truce. You think you can keep bullying me and I might have become complacent but I am merely trying to survive so do not even begin to think that I have accepted you and do not even assume that I am any less a man because I am in this ridiculous gown. And, realize, that tomorrow I shall go back to trying to kill you. I suggest you watch your back." Matthew finished.

"Is that all?" Arthur asked, one thick eyebrow quirked and tone bored.

"…And you are, without a doubt, the worst person I have ever had the misfortune of encountering." Matthew paused, before adding, "That's all."

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. "You know, pet. I didn't hear a 'I hate you' in there."

"It was implied." Came the harried response. "Why? Would you like a verbal reassurance of my complete and utter detestation of your person? Because I will gladly—"

"Forgot how damned eloquent you become." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do us a favor, love, shut up." His voice lowered as he leaned forward, carding his fingers through blond waves, locks catching on his rings. "Just shut up."

And he kissed Matthew.

* * *

><p>Belle is Belgium. Alfred was Arthur's first mate who mutinied. Matthew's 'girl' name is Margaret. Yes, I made Peter Arthur's son (Arthur is a number of years older than Matthew, at least 10 years) and no, Arthur's brothers don't know that they already have a nephew. Peter never knew his father and no one has connected the dots for the same reason no one has realized that Matthew is a boy. Arthur is a douche and yes, he has a little crush not that he'll be admitting it. Matthew is trying to accept the situation for what it is. Arthur is also trying to be nicer. Yes, no one is talking exactly like a stereotypical pirate or with an accent. It's too hard to keep typing out. OTL<p>

It's really, really hard for these two. XD

Still worth reading?


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much for all the reviews! I am a little surprised at the reception of this story. ^_^;; But I'm glad its good so far.

Wonder if I ruined it with this chapter. XD

Edit: Thanks so much to the wonderful artist who drew some lovely fanart for this story! I love it! The link is up on my author's profile. Go check it out! ^_^

Pairing: UKCan

Warnings: previous warnings apply, OOCness, stupidity, AU, slash, inappropriate mood whiplash, etc

Disclaimer: It's great that I don't own Hetalia. Seriously.

* * *

><p>"Blow me down." A pirate muttered behind his tankard of rum. "That is too damn precious."<p>

"Ye milksop." Another snorted. "We don't need two wenches on the ship."

"Oi! Even ye cannot look at that and not think its precious." The first pirate snapped.

Matthew ignored the bickering pair and instead concentrated on making sure Peter did not loose his balance and send the both of them toppling.

The fiddler continued to play, a steady, jaunty tune spilling easily from his dancing bow as the accordion player cut in, adding a cheerful wail to the shanty's melody.

Peter laughed, palms sweaty as he continued to clumsily lead Matthew in a dance while standing on Matthew's feet. But the blond just laughed, taking smaller steps too make sure the cabin boy didn't fall, graciously allowing the child to invite him to dance. The pirates around them sang along, all a little drunk and getting drunker.

Arthur watched quietly from between Alistair and James, his rum untouched in his lap, as Matthew continued to dance playfully with Peter, cheeks red from laughing whenever the two of them would almost slip in trying to keep time with the rapid song.

"Margie would make a good mum." Alistair said quietly, dark blue eyes twinkling as he watched Matthew courtesy before a gunner staggered up and drunkenly asked the blond to dance.

"You're three sheets to the wind." The captain responded, green eye focused on the bright smile on Matthew's face, locks whipping about his face, as the gunner twirled him around deftly before passing him to the boatswain.

Arthur caught Matthew's eye and the blond gave him a helpless, secret little smile and a shrug before he turned back to his partner.

The captain's attraction to the blond was never a secret. Even in the beginning, when he was trying to unnerve and terrify the other, the desire was still real and tangible and glowing. Matthew hated his attentions, struggled and fought and ran and Arthur would drag him back each time. Bruised knuckles and scars and the reminder of blood and debt hung between them and neither of them could ignore it or quite forgive. But Arthur softened and Matthew smiled and the two of them reached an tenuous truce that fractured, once and again, and, like most tales as old as time, something took root and soon Matthew warmed and Arthur cooled and mutual understanding sprouted.

And when Arthur kissed Matthew that afternoon, in the suffocating heat of the cabin, fingers pressed to the hollow of Matthew's throat, there might have been something else there that wasn't there before.

Because Matthew, coming off his self-righteous and infuriated rant, had stiffened and then calmed when the pirate treaded lightly and when Arthur pulled away, Matthew's eyes were downcast and he said nothing.

They didn't speak for the rest of the day or for the next week. Matthew had spent time with Alfred, assisted the cook in the galley, and drifted about the ship, arms crossed and gaze distant.

And now, after another successful fight, this time with corsairs who had overstepped their boundaries, the crew was celebrating and Matthew was laughing freely in an embroidered maroon gown with gold details that Arthur found tucked away in the hoard of the corsair's ship as Alistair pulled him along in a jig, broad palms on his waist as he sang along, off key and loud, with the rest of the crew.

"You're not just going to stand there, are you, Arthur?" Alfred asked. The blond, under Matthew's request, had been invited to the celebration and Arthur had acquiesced readily. "She wants to dance with you otherwise she'd just stay sitting."

Arthur snorted, indelicately. Matthew was just being polite. The boy didn't really want to dance and the pirate could tell so from the way violet eyes looking longingly towards the crates.

Arthur wanted to prolong his suffering. Just a little bit.

"Go sit, ye scurvy dog." The sandy-haired man said, gruff and good-naturedly pushing his brother away from Matthew while keeping a hand on the blond's waist.

"My feet hurt." Matthew whispered, wincing as Arthur proceeded to drag him into a quick-stepped dance, heels clacking against the salt-worn wood, with a set of complicated dips and swirls. "And I hate being led."

Arthur smirked but slowed accordingly, pulling the younger male close. Matthew inhaled sharply and gave the dread pirate a wary look. Arthur's face was the epitome of innocence but the hands splayed across Matthew's lower back were anything but.

"If you ask for a kiss—" Matthew began and was cut off when Arthur pecked him on the lips before pressing harder, tongue swiping against the boy's lower lip. The crew cheered. When he pulled away, smirking, Matthew glared, cheeks red. "You—"

"Pirate." Arthur said cheekily. "Also, if ye didn't want one, why did ye mention it?"

Matthew had no response so he just shook his head and rested his head against Arthur's shoulder. Arthur stopped moving, just standing in place with Matthew warm in his arms, as he stared out at the dark surface of the ocean, starlight and firelight bouncing off the surface.

* * *

><p>"How was I supposed to know that blasted corsair had another ship close behind?" Arthur yelled, shoving the dead man off his cutlass with a disgusted scowl.<p>

Alistair, grappling with his own angry and grieving corsair, snorted and punched the man in the jaw before throwing the man overboard. He opened his mouth to keep yelling at his half-brother when, eyes wide, he saw a man sneak up on Arthur. He yelled to warn him but immediately found himself facing down three more enemy pirates.

Arthur whirled around, coat torn and fluttering pathetically around his legs, green eye wide. He raised his pistol to shoot but froze when a cutlass tore through the man's chest from the other side, the corsair's mouth open in a silent cry, blood already dribbling the corner of his lips.

The corpse dropped.

Matthew, face set grimly, held the cutlass at his side.

Arthur stared, gaze alternating between the blood smeared on the blade and the determined glint in Matthew's eyes.

"I think that was their navigator." The captain said.

"Pity." Matthew said airily, giving Arthur a faint grin before blocking a blow from the side as another corsair rushed at him and neatly parrying, his voluminous skirt not hampering his agility or grace. Arthur stared, open-mouthed, as Matthew made short work of the man who challenged him before turning to yell at Arthur to stop standing around like a ninny.

Then he disappeared in a flutter of blond and red into the melee of battling pirates.

* * *

><p>"I want you now." Was the only warning Matthew received before Arthur pressed him up against the mizzen, clawing at his gown, the still warm blood of the slain pirates pooling around their shoes. Eyes widening, Matthew shoved the amorous man away and glared. "For god's sake Arthur!"<p>

Matthew had someone else's blood splattered across his front and a cut on his cheek.

Arthur swore under his breath and restrained himself from turning the boy around and flipping up that blasted gown and just taking him there.

* * *

><p>Arthur finally returned to the cabin after helping take care of the dead and claiming the rest of the other's treasure and ordering James to split it. He left, patting Peter on the head (Matthew had hidden him in the bilge with Alfred before rushing to assist the outnumbered crew) and turning his back on the captives solemnly decreeing "Dead men tell no tales."<p>

Then he walked evenly into the cabin, locked the door, and just stared at Matthew who was sitting in his chemise and stockings and sighing sadly at his ruined gown.

"It can't be fixed." The younger man sighed, shrugging. Then, glancing at Arthur with startlingly bright purple eyes, he raised a slender brow, asking, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Either you be willing or bite your tongue." Arthur said quietly, ignoring Matthew's sputter, shrugging off his ragged coat and tossing his tricorn hat into the corner. "And don't ye dare tell me you hate me or that it's wrong because I have never hidden my wants nor have you ever turned away because we are both men and you saved my life today. So, if you want to put on a defiant face and fight, fine but I will take you and I will have you and you will be crying my name come dawn."

* * *

><p>Matthew is dozing on the bed. An arm and leg slung over the edge, the worn off-white sheet pooling low around his waist, the blond is a sight in the moonlight streaming in from the window, casting his hair silver and highlighting the slumbering lines of his body.<p>

Arthur, nude and pleasantly sore, is helping himself to alcohol and enjoying the sight of his stunning bedmate. Downing the rest of his drink, he pads over to the bed and takes his spot on Matthew's other side, dipping low to press a fond kiss to a bare shoulder blade. Matthew murmurs nonsensically, turning towards him and sleepily seeking him out. Lips already pursed, Arthur obliges the younger man with a soft kiss followed by a harder one and flourished with a rough clashing of lips that has Matthew fully awake and dragging his blunt nails down Arthur's bare chest.

When Matthew finally opens his eyes, violet eyes warm, Arthur traces the hollow of his throat, coaxing the blond to tilt his head back, pale neck revealed and Arthur mouths the tremble of his throat and the dip of his chest.

"Oh God. Not again." Matthew said plaintively, voice tripping over tiredness.

"Mm, but you're already damned love." Arthur whispered.

"Not that godly." Came the retort and Arthur is already stroking Matthew's flank and dragging his fingers between his lean thighs and teasing the lingering wetness of his entrance. "Arthur, I mean it." Matthew pushes him away harder, mouth parting to scold him but all that trails out is a low, halting moan as Arthur breaches the ring of muscle with a sharp smirk.

"You're so lovely." Arthur is worshiping and scorching and when he kisses Matthew's open-mouth, he is demanding. "Gold pales in comparison to your hair." He whispers, breathlessly. "Jewels are dull when your eyes meet mine." A kiss. "Your skin—"

"You sop." Matthew laughed, gasping and pressing against his wrist when Arthur spreads his fingers and presses deeper.

"Say my name." the dread pirate demanded, Matthew bucking down on his fingers as he speeds up steadily.

Matthew comes, the other's name falling like desperate prayers.

* * *

><p>"Don't look so proud." Matthew huffed, curled up in the sheets and giving the pirate a cross look.<p>

"Then don't act as though ye didn't beg for more." Arthur teased, swatting Matthew's upraised rump as he sauntered by.

"Arthur, wait!"

At the other's call, the dread pirate captain glanced over his shoulder and saw Matthew beckon him closer.

"I know ye find me charming and irresistible, love, but as a fearsome pirate lord I have me duties." He said, tone dry despite the glint in his eye.

Matthew rolled his eyes and sat up, wincing when his body protested vehemently. "I find you neither charming nor irresistible. You are simply another weevil in my bread who becomes so commonplace that I have no choice but to name and converse with him."

Arthur snorted and pinched Matthew's cheek fondly. "Then I hope you break off with those others. I am, ye realize, the best of all weevils."

The blond gave him a bright smile and leaned up, kissed Arthur on the cheek, playfully tweaked the leather cord of his eye patch and said, "Be nice to Peter."

* * *

><p>"Someone is in a good mood." Alistair noted, a knowing grin on his face.<p>

"Weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen!" Arthur shouted, unable to keep a pleased smile off his face as he walked up and down the length of the deck before bounding up to the quarterdeck, two steps at a time. The white feather in his hat flew lightly in the wind and the captain's good humor seemed undefeatable.

"I wager we'll be in for a wedding soon." James sighed, crossing his arms, dark overcoat pulled tight across the expanse of his back.

"Mum would be so proud." The red head said woefully, removing his cap in memory of their deceased mother. "She always wanted Art to find a sweet, young woman of good breeding." His face turned thoughtful. "Though Margaret deserves better than our brother but if she can look past his temper and moodiness and accept him for the criminal he is—then bless her."

"I can hear ye." Arthur said dryly.

"Why else would I be speaking so loud?" Alistair responded.

* * *

><p>Matthew tries hard not to think about the implications of the twist in his and Arthur's relationship. It is only acceptable so long as he hides his identity in a mass of frills and averted eyes and soft replies.<p>

But Arthur strips away each ridiculous ribbon and unwanted bit of lace until Matthew is bare and genuine and bites and presses until Matthew is hoarse and there is no doubt as to what is real.

Matthew is not the god-fearing woman Amelia is. But he is also not the fearless and dynamic maverick his sister becomes when she truly wants something. When Amelia wants something, neither heaven nor hell can conspire to stop her. She would damn herself and her family for the chance to press her lips against Madeline's wrist. If she could question her God for love then Matthew can trace 'sodomite' on the inside of his forearm and not feel its burn because Arthur's touch engulfs everything.

Because Arthur smiles upon catching sight of the scars Matthew left in his furious assassination attempts. Because Arthur doesn't tell Matthew to smile when he's sulking, he drags Matthew back into line and curls his lip at the other's pampered childish side when it arises.

But, it remains, that Matthew is not a woman. He has no place on a pirate ship. He is his father's only heir. He has not forgotten the heat of Port Royal or the rain of London because no matter how pungent the open sea salt air is or how the sun bears down on him midday, the blond remembers solid land filled with respectable men and women.

And, perhaps Arthur knows this, because he stops teasing Matthew and, instead, talks about the sea, about its wonders and treasures and there is magic in his tales of adventure. But Matthew just smiles sadly and turns away each time.

* * *

><p>"This was a terrible idea." Matthew sighed. Then, eyebrow twitching, he scowled and elbowed the pirate in the chest. "I can feel you attempting to prepare me, you deviant."<p>

Arthur looked entirely unrepentant, eye gleaming when Matthew turned to face him, still scowling. "Haven't ye ever want to do it the bath?"

"Bathes are for washing." Matthew said imperiously, swatting at Arthur when the dread pirate attempted to kiss him. "And there is barely enough room in here for the both of us to wash. There will be no illicit activities in the tub." Matthew, attempting to shift onto his knees, slipped and landed with a thump against the naked pirate, slick chests sliding together, much to his embarrassment.

Arthur snickered and pulled the blond up, settling him in his lap, thighs on either side of Arthur's waist. The pirate stretched out and leaned back, giving Matthew a smirk. "We have washed love. Though…I still feel a little _dirty_." He waggled his thick brows and Matthew rolled his eyes.

"You're terrible."

"Pirate."

* * *

><p>"Matthew!"<p>

That is the only warning Matthew receives before a blur of dark blue tears out of the inn and rushes towards him. Arthur reacts before him, pushing the boy behind him, and one hand ready on his cutlass. Matthew almost stumbles on the cobblestone and looks up, catching sight of the stranger in the weak torchlight in the abandoned street.

And something in him bubbles up, relief so overwhelming, that the boy drops the pretty violet fan Arthur gave him and cries out, "Amelia!"

His sister—oh god, what has she done?—shoves Arthur away with surprising strength and embraces her brother. And Matthew can only return it, disbelieving fingers running through his sister's shorn hair and the sharp curve of her cheekbone and the brilliant blue eyes she inherited from their father. And the two united twins laugh, matching laughter filling the air.

"What are you wearing?" Matthew asks, pushing the girl away gently and looking at her outfit.

Amelia gives him a crooked smile and pokes at his nonexistent bust. "I'd ask the same, brother mine."

Amelia's hair is cut to her ears and smoothed back. Chest bound and body covered by a large navy overcoat with brocade down the front and at the cuffs, the girl is dressed as a man, breeches tucked into shining black boots. She walks, feet apart, and a sure hand on her waist, right where her pistol hangs in wait.

"We always were strange." Amelia shrugged. There is black ink on her neck.

Arthur's face darkens and, lowly, he says, "_Lady Liberty_. You're the one who sank _Queen Catherine's Fury_."

Amelia gives him a smug grin. "Not just me."

* * *

><p>"Oh god, you're a pirate." Matthew groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and pacing the room furiously.<p>

"Brother dearest, you're in a dress." Amelia said sweetly.

Lady Madeline, at Amelia's side, looked more sympathetic. The pretty blond is wearing a simple dark blue gown with white ruffles at the opening of her elbow-length sleeves. Amelia is resting her head on the revealed swell of her breasts, pushed up from the neckline, and Madeline is stroking her hair with dainty hands.

"I am certain he did not choose the dress." Her voice is whisper soft but there is a wicked glint in her big, light blue eyes.

Arthur is sitting in a corner of the room, most likely sulking but Matthew is not inclined to care at the moment.

"My sister is a pirate." Matthew sighed.

"If it makes you feel any better, love, she's not a very good one." Arthur threw in.

Amelia's cheeks puffed in rage. And she sat up. "I am an awesome pirate."

"Don't call me 'love'." Matthew added, then seeing Amelia's furious look. "Amelia, I'd rather you be a mediocre pirate than a good one."

"She's not even mediocre." Arthur then said, leaning back and looking entirely too pleased. "She leaves survivors. She insulted the people of Tortuga—good luck being protected from the Navy when you're docked there, lass. She brings women on board."

"Those women are good officers." Amelia snapped, Madeline trying to calm her. "And one of those women is my lover so I thank you to shut up or else I'll sink your ship!"

"And what of your brother?"

"He can come live on my ship."

"A good pirate leaves no survivors?" Matthew pondered.

Arthur snarled and stood up, coming up behind Matthew and wrapping a possessive arm around his waist. Madeline blushed and Amelia, after a brief stunned expression, lit up in rage.

"I'd like to see you try, you bitch."

"Don't insult my sister, Arthur." Matthew said darkly, patience running thin. "And, Amelia, stop talking nonsense. You want to recklessly sail around the globe with Lady Madeline, fine. But if you sink Arthur's ship, I will never forgive you."

Amelia looked contrite. "Look, Mattie." The familiar nickname sparked something warm and nostalgic in the dress-wearing boy. "The entire Bonnefoy house went down in flames. Francis was half-alive and swears that you were taken prisoner. I visited mother a month ago and they still hope to see you." She smiled bitterly. "You're their only child, as far as they're concerned."

"Amelia…" Matthew trailed off, helplessly in light of the sorrow in his sister's voice.

Amelia shook her head. "You always were the good one, brother." She glared at Arthur. "My brother has the chance to get his life back. Stop being such a selfish ass and let him go."

* * *

><p>"Come on, Matthew." Amelia said petulantly, attempting to stall Matthew by grabbing his arm and digging her heels into the dirt. "What about me? Us? We always did say we'd go on adventures together?" she continued, cajoling.<p>

Lady Madeline stood a ways off, sighing at her lover's wheedling.

Matthew sighed, as well, trying to pry his sister off him. "Amelia, you have a new partner in crime. Literally." He nodded at the statuesque blond. Amelia glanced at Madeline, expression softening.

"But, Matt—" Amelia tried again but Matthew cut her off.

"Arthur…has treated me decently." He said, patting her head. "And, knowing you, you probably have some half-formed idea in your mind and you intend to see that out before taking me home."

"It's the fountain of youth, Matthew!"

Matthew sighed, exasperated. "Let us meet again, sister dear." He smiled at her, gentle and loving before nodding at Lady Madeline. "Keep her out of trouble."

"I try." The pretty girl said, deftly grabbing Amelia's overcoat to keep the exuberant blond from tackling her brother and attempting to drag him off and away from Arthur.

* * *

><p>Arthur gave Matthew a worried look. The boy hadn't said a word since waving his sister off. Now, Matthew was staring out onto the wide expanse of the sea from the cabin window as the waves splashed against the wooden hulk of the ship.<p>

"Love." Arthur breathed out against the nape of his neck, palms sliding up the lines of his arms and fingers fiddling with the neckline of the gown. Arthur quietly unlaced the bodice with nimble fingers and slowly dragged the heavy fabric down pale skin.

"Stop." Matthew said quietly.

Arthur didn't.

"I said, that's enough!" Matthew raised his voice and tearing himself from the other's grasp. He gave the other a defiant look, violet eyes cold. "Who do you think you are? I am not some whore who is always at your beck and call. Is sex all you think about?"

How could Arthur not realize that he wanted to go home?

"Not to ruin the pretty image you seem to have in mind, love, but you have been warming my bed for the past few months. You've just gotten better at it." Arthur said coldly, offended by the way Matthew just shoved him off when he attempted to comfort him. Really, he thought they had gotten past this pesky dancing around each other. And, though he knew it was wrong, he wouldn't take back the hurt-fueled words. "And, what else is there?"

Matthew gave him an incredulous look before it was overtaken by hurt and anger. How could Arthur say that? Was this the rest of his life? "We're still in port." He said, jaw clenched. "I suggest you go have your needs taken care of."

* * *

><p>"I take it the honeymoon is over." Alistair stated, blandly, as Matthew glided past Arthur and, rather than stare at the blond with doe-eyes, the dread pirate captain called Matthew a "tramp".<p>

Matthew spent the rest of the day in the crow's nest with Reginald.

* * *

><p>"You killed Richard!" Matthew shouted, staring in horror at the corpse.<p>

Arthur looked vaguely upset. "He got in the way. I meant to kill him." He pointed towards Reginald with his pistol. "Now we need another navigator." He looked thoughtful.

"I can be navigator." Reginald meekly volunteered.

* * *

><p>"You killed Reginald!" James shouted. "Why?"<p>

"He got us lost." Arthur shrugged. "Piss-poor navigator, that one."

* * *

><p>"I liked Reginald." Alfred said mildly. "Good man. Little slow but good."<p>

"Arthur is ridiculous!" Matthew huffed, kicking at one of the crates. "Its so obvious now. He never once cared for me. I'm just another warm body."

"He does care." Alfred interjected. "He's just…emotionally stunted. He'll come around."

Matthew just shrugged, slumping his shoulders and curling up on a crate. Frankly, the fight should never have gotten so out of hand. But Matthew thought he had the right to reject Arthur's advances. But Arthur made it very clear that it was about Matthew's body from the beginning. That Matthew was just another object to hoard. And Matthew gave in and how could he possibly think there was more to Arthur than pirate lord?

He should've just gone with Amelia and Madeline.

* * *

><p>"I'm not hungry."<p>

Arthur glared at the recalcitrant blond. "Don't test me, boy." He shoved the fork back into Matthew's hand impatiently. "Eat."

Matthew, pinching his lips, poked at the unidentifiable salted meat and cut off little bits of it. Arthur just watched him, eye narrowed, and took a sip of his water.

Matthew forced down two bites and then grabbed his own cup. And promptly put it back, lips twisted in distaste. "There's something in it."

Arthur sighed heavily and checked for himself. "It's just a bit of mold. It won't kill ye."

Matthew looked horrified. "I'm not drinking it."

The dread pirate put down his fork and knife purposely and gave the blond a cold look. "I am not in the mood to indulge you today, pet."

And days of Matthew's coldness and forced civility was wearing on him. The boy could hold a grudge when he set his mind to it. Ever since seeing his sister, Matthew had closed off, rather than easing in comfort with the knowledge of his sister's well-being.

Well, she was a pirate but she didn't look too poorly off.

He had shied away from Arthur's touch, snapping at his desire rather than melting and reciprocating. And, perhaps the pirate would concede, he had been rather disrespectful in referring to Matthew as a "whore" without an appropriately jesting tone. But now it was simply ridiculous.

Matthew would spend hours with Alfred, hours in the crow's nest, and hours away from Arthur. Dinners were tense and every attempt Arthur made to wheedle back into Mathew's good graces were met with his back.

Of course, he could sit Matthew down and have a talk but that was…

That would never work.

Matthew gave him a testing look before he pushed the cup away. "You can have it."

Arthur's scowl deepened. "Would ye like to fall ill? Drink." He pushed the cup back with more force than necessary and the cup tottered dangerously before righting itself. The blond shook his head. Arthur was ready to hit him. But, instead, he took a deep breath. "Would ye like mine?" He held out his cup, still filled a quarter of the way.

Matthew peered into it and hesitantly took the cup. "Thank you." He said quietly, a little humbled, and took a small sip.

Arthur just nodded and went back to his food.

* * *

><p>The rest of the meal continued peacefully until Arthur was slicing an apple.<p>

"Here." He held out a slice for Matthew, teasingly pushing it towards his lips.

"I can feed myself." Matthew sighed, attempting to take the fruit.

Arthur, pricking a little at the other's rebuff, avoided the hand and pressed the fruit against Matthew's lips. "Maybe I want to feed ye."

Matthew's eyes narrowed and, lips staying as closed as possible, he grit out, "I'm an adult."

"You're being a child." Arthur corrected, days of fermenting anger and nights of sleeping as far apart as possible, crashed into each other and not even God could stop the storm of words that followed. "You're worse than a woman. You take everything to heart. The slightest of slights makes you puff up like a toad."

Matthew opened his mouth, indignant, and Arthur took the opportunity to gleefully shove the apple slice into his mouth. Matthew gagged but Arthur covered his mouth, forcing the blond to chew.

"You're a bastard." Matthew hissed when he finished. "You don't even _care_—"

"Tell me what else I should care about." Arthur demanded, standing up. "I have an entire crew that looks to me for orders, a ship under my control, lives that I am responsible for, a son who shouldn't be here, and a bounty on my head. And now, I have a selfish, beautiful brat more frigid than a nun who thinks I don't _care_." He slammed his hand onto the rough-hewn table and _glared_. "What? Because I don't sit here and tell you how pretty you are or how much I love you?"

Matthew looked down at his lap, lip trembling and eyes hateful. "That's not what I meant." He whispered.

"Then explain it! Use some of that bloody eloquence you reserve for expressing your hatred of me!" Arthur snapped.

Matthew shook his head and stood up swiftly, skirts swishing as he turned away. Arthur grabbed the crook of his elbow. Matthew demanded that Arthur let him go.

What happened next neither man is proud of.

Something in Arthur bubbles over and he doesn't even fully understand what he's saying. His words twist Matthew into something terrible and Matthew is yelling at him and he doesn't know why but the last thing he remembers snarling is "You're mine and I'll prove it."

And then Matthew is pushed face first onto the bed, Arthur pressing him down, dodging one flying elbow and shoving another down. He's pushing up Matthew's gown, smacking the flesh of the other's bare thigh when the blond struggles. And Matthew stops struggling soon and just hides his face in the pillow as Arthur spreads his legs, trousers shoved down, thumbs digging grooves into the soft skin of Matthew's inner thighs, pushing him open wider and wider and Matthew's knuckles are white and everything is rushing noise and red in Arthur's mind.

And Matthew sobs once, loud and choking. And the blunt head of Arthur's prick is at his entrance.

Neither is hard.

Matthew is all stiff ridges and lines held taut and Arthur is cold and tired. He smoothes down the other's gown and fixes his trousers.

And then presses his face between Matthew's shoulder blades and whispers, "Forgive me" against the other's warmth and he can't tell which of them is shaking more.

* * *

><p>He wakes up and stares up at the ceiling before lethargically looking over.<p>

Matthew is sitting next to him, his pistol resting in his lap. His eyes are bruised and he is just a shadow in the darkness of the cabin.

"Will you kill me now, darling?" Arthur whispers.

Matthew gives him a sad smile. "I doubt I could." He admitted, giving a little shrug and Arthur rolls over and presses his forehead to the other's knee, one hand on his skirt.

Matthew raises a hand, falters, and then reaches down and nimbly removes his eye patch. Arthur sighed when the blond, then, smoothed over the sensitive skin and asked, quietly, "Did it hurt?"

"To be honest, I was drunk the entire time." Arthur said wryly. "They asked if I wanted a glass one. But I'm a vain man. I'd rather wear that blasted thing than have the wrong shade of green." He paused, sighed when the other's warm fingertips hesitantly touched the loose lid before pulling away shocked. "It's rather repulsive, love. No worries."

They sit silently, like that, for a few moments longer. Then Matthew breaks the silence.

"I love you." He said softly, the declaration hanging there, caught in the stillness of the room. "But I don't want to stay with you."

* * *

><p>"We're going back to Tortuga?" James asked, curiosity bright in his eyes. "Arthur, why?"<p>

"We need more food, fresh water and munitions." The dread pirate captain said shortly. "And another navigator."

"Do we? I think Charles is doing brilliant."

"You mean Rupert?" Alistair cut in. "Charles was the last one. The one who fell overboard."

"So did Rupert." Arthur admitted darkly. "He and Jack had a falling out. Me thinks they were...close." There was a certain emphasis on the word that enlightened the two other brothers of the exact relationship between the men.

"So we do need a navigator."

"And a cook. This one is a mutinous bastard."

"He is not—"

"The breakfast he served are grounds enough for a flogging."

"Well, he has few provisions left."

"All the more reason to go back to Tortuga!" Arthur said cheerfully. Alistair smirked and James just sighed.

* * *

><p>There's a quiet sort of desperation in the way Arthur kisses Matthew when they dock in Tortuga. The two are in Belle's inn, in the sanctity of their room and the pirate lord just tangles his fingers in Matthew's hair and kisses him sweetly.<p>

Matthew is stunned when Arthur pulls away, tracing the curve of his face with reverent fingertips. But he gives the other a wane smile and his eyes are bright and wet and Arthur just covers his mouth when he starts to speak.

They make love quietly, face-to-face, breathing each other's breaths and finding solace in each other's touch. Arthur's hand slips on Matthew's hip as he tries to pull the blond closer and Matthew drags his nails down the beat of Arthur's heart. Arthur tries to memorize the way the blond writhes each time Arthur's thrusts and how he clings when Arthur pulls out almost all the way. Entwined, they catch moonlight in their perspiration and its almost obscene but it doesn't matter.

Matthew grabs his wrist, when they finish, and presses desperate kisses to his pulse and Arthur stays. He stays with the infuriating boy with brilliant violet eyes and a tongue wickeder than a rapier in hand and who loves him and is dripping with his seed and beckons him with a heartbroken smile.

But, when dawn appears, sun peering over the horizon on the still ocean, he can't bring himself to look at the slumbering blond.

He leaves.

* * *

><p>Belle catches him just as he is turning from the inn. Her eyes are understanding and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes make her look beautiful and haggard at once."That's it?" She asks.<p>

"That's it." Arthur says, putting on his tricorn hat.

And the dread pirate walks away.

* * *

><p>And that's it.<p>

-starts to walk away-

...Or is it?


	4. Chapter 4

Guys, guys, guys. I'm sorry for making you panic about the last chapter. But, remember, unless a story is marked 'complete' it is incomplete. XD

Anyways, thanks so much for the reviews and support! And for the fanart! It's all so lovely~ ^_^ Here's the final chapter. It's short, but I couldn't drag it out any more.

Warnings: previous warnings apply

Pairing: ukcan

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

><p>Matthew stared out at the ocean, sea breeze ruffling his blond locks, a frown tugging at his lips. The water was still, waves lapping at the posts of the dock, white foam hissing and clinging to the rotting wood. The dock was quiet save for the soldier on patrol and the odd child from town playing among the ropes and barrels.<p>

The blond was briefly reminded of Peter and he smiled sadly, waving to the soldier and hopping onto the beach, kicking up sand with his leather boots as he trudged along the tide that crawled up and skimmed his shoes. He continued to walk, leaving the outskirts of the town behind him as he headed towards the hidden cove a mile or so away.

He glanced back at the ocean, at the clouds, and looked for the dark hulking mass of _Queen Elizabeth's Revenge._

Matthew's lower lip trembled, still haunted by the press of Arthur's lips against his. Maybe he had rushed. Maybe he should've kept his mouth shut.

Love? How could he have said that?

He did want to come home. He was happy at home in Port Royal. His mother had hugged him and his father smiled, looking years younger.

When the high society lords and ladies of Port Royal cornered him at the next ball and asked him about his return to London, Matthew's smile had tightened and something in him clenched and he grit his teeth and quietly excused his self.

It was then he realized all of Amelia's portraits had been taken down and that his mother had been wearing black when he returned on the merchant's ship from Tortuga.

"You were ready to put me into the ground as well." He had said quietly to his father, storming onto the balcony and hopping into the garden.

Now he was pretending that everything was fine and wonderful.

No one wanted to hear of the past year. His mother was already talking about marriage. His father was talking about him starting at the business that autumn. Amelia was off on the high seas with her lover.

And Matthew was on land, pining for a man who fucked him and left him alone in a tiny inn in Tortuga. He had thought he was better for it, that he had composed himself and never looked back.

Arthur had let him go. But Matthew couldn't let him go.

But Arthur had to have cared.

* * *

><p>"So this is how you look out of the dress."<p>

At the gruff voice, Matthew scrambled to his feet, sand clinging to his breeches and palms. He started towards the man before holding himself back and ended up falling on his rear onto the sand.

Alistair snorted and James just shook his head.

The two pirates were dressed respectably, having abandoned their mismatched clothes and traded in for well-tailored trousers and overcoats. Alistair had a scarf around his neck to hide his tattoos and James wore gloves to hide his scarred hands.

"What are you doing here?" Matthew asked, voice low as he looked around, rising back to his feet. "You'll be hanged." He fretted, now straining his neck to find any soldiers patrolling.

"I don't know how we didn't realize it before." James said mildly, cocking his head. "He is remarkably masculine."

"Explains the lack of…" Alistair trailed off, making a vaguely obscene cupping gesture with his hands in front of his chest.

Matthew looked scandalized.

The Scotsman laughed. "Never mind. 'Tis our Margaret through and through."

"Matthew." Both James and Matthew corrected.

"So…you both know?" The blond said, awkwardly shifting.

"Arthur finally told us a month after we left Tortuga. We kept nagging him about just leaving you and being too much of a coward to wed you." Alistair sighed. "Then he just sn—."

"Told us." James interrupted, giving his brother a hard look.

* * *

><p><em>"Bloody hell!" Arthur had roared, crumpling the maps on his desk and sweeping them off violently. The sextant and compass flew off and clattered to the ground. The pirate swore indiscernibly, fingers coming up to grip his hair as he slumped onto the table. Alistair and James stood, watching. "There is no blasted Margaret. It was just stupid boy who had the misfortune of being in a dress." He said quietly, wounded. "He wasn't supposed to stay on the ship. I was going to ransom him off and be done with it but…" Arthur stopped, voice thick. "What have I done?"<em>

* * *

><p>"How is he?" Matthew asked quietly, picking sand off his palms.<p>

And how could Alistair and James tell the boy that Arthur had stayed locked up in the cabin for days, coming out reeking of rum and eyes bloodshot and temper fouler than a wounded kraken?

So they didn't.

"Same as ever." Alistair said brightly.

Matthew looked miserable.

* * *

><p>"And Peter?" Matthew asked, violet eyes shimmering in the dusk as he interrogated the two pirates about the rest of the crew.<p>

Alistair sighed. "Arthur decided that the ship was no place for a child and left him at a church orphanage in Kingston."

Seeing Matthew's horrified face, James cut in smoothly, "But, like the good lad he is, Peter ran away from Arthur less than a foot inside the gate of the church and hid in a carpenter's workshop. Arthur went to drag him back but found him with the carpenter—a enormous Swede with cold eyes and a penchant for baking—who decided to keep Peter as an apprentice. The boy is spoiled rotten. Cakes and biscuits whenever he wants them." But James looked pleased and Matthew smiled, exhaling in relief.

"Art took that hard too." Alistair added, earning a glare from James. "What? Apparently he was fond of that little bugger."

Matthew stayed quiet. It wasn't his place to tell Alistair and James that Arthur had to leave his only child.

"Look, Matthew." The red-haired pirate began, ignoring his brother's attempts to silence him. "Artie has had a hard few months after you left. Peter is gone now too and we had to leave Alfred with Belle in Tortuga. His health took a turn for the worse."

"Oh god." Matthew gasped. "What happened?"

"He thinks he was being some sort of hero by sticking with Arthur after that nasty business years back." James explained, still giving his brother a dirty look. "Didn't even notice his health was waning and Arthur has always been dense. He's doing better with Belle."

"Me thinks there is a little love in the air." Alistair grinned. "Perhaps Belle will have better luck with this marriage."

Matthew shook his head. Then, something occurred to him, and he gave the two pirates a nervous look. "Um…about the charade—"

Alistair held up his hand to silence the blond. "It isn't my place to speak, lad, especially considering how happy you two were."

James nodded. "It was Arthur's idea, anyways. No one would consent to wearing a dress for so long."

The blond flushed, pink spreading up to the tips of his ears.

* * *

><p>The two pirates got up to leave and Matthew stood as well, grabbing Alistair's sleeve and pulled the taller man to his level.<p>

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I am so sorry."

Alistair gave him a mysterious smile and patted his hand. "Not everyone is suited to that salty wench, the sea, boy. It had to happen eventually. And know," He leaned close, blue eyes glinting. "that Arthur missed you. Don't you dare believe otherwise or else. Because I believe we will meet again and, when we do, I'll bring you something pretty." He patted Matthew's head and the blond gave him a strange look.

"And here I thought you were sober for once."

* * *

><p>It didn't hit him until he was halfway home that Arthur missed him.<p>

And eyes widening, he didn't see the cracked cobblestone and he promptly tripped.

* * *

><p>Matthew is unbuttoning his shirt with careful fingers when a breeze brushes across his nape and he stiffens, turning slowly.<p>

Arthur is sitting on the sill of his window, dressed in a less flamboyant black waistcoat and straight trousers tucked into dark boots. He doesn't have his hat and his hair is windswept and he's staring out at the dark sky.

"I can see why you wanted to leave." Arthur began, voice casual and cold. "A big, pretty house overlooking the town, the ocean. The finest clothes and best food. Servants to wait on you hand and foot." He glanced at Matthew, emerald eye calculating. "Though, you know, love, I have plenty of wealth. Enough gold and jewels to pay a princess's dowry."

"It was never about the money." Matthew said quietly, pulling his shirt together, refusing to rise to Arthur's taunting. "And you know it. So don't sit there and regurgitate all the lies you told yourself to make it easier to abandon me."

"And what sweet lies have you told yourself?" Arthur gave him an incredulous look that made way for resentment.

"Only that you loved me as well." Matthew whispered, fingers curling into his palms.

"Funny." Arthur said after a moment, forcing distance, tone cooling. "And why would you tell yourself that?"

Matthew gave him a hurt look, violet eyes frosting over. "Because I wasn't lying that night and you know it. I hated you and I tolerated you but when you fell asleep, begging for forgiveness like a child instead of a great pirate lord, and I had the chance to kill you, I couldn't do it because I knew I loved you." He gave the pirate a sad, soft smile.

And it had struck him, sudden and soothing like a crashing wave, that night. And maybe it was being held prisoner. Maybe it was some terrible disease.

But he knew that he shouldn't have missed Arthur as much as he did.

He should've been happy that morning in Tortuga.

"I hated you when I woke up alone."

"So you made a mistake."

"No." Matthew said, quiet and faltering. "I have my duty and you have yours and its just better if we part again. Even if it hurts. Even if I can't bear it again." He sniffled.

"You're less emotional in a dress." Arthur noted quietly.

"Go to hell." Matthew snarled, weeks of simmering hurt sparking in his chest and anger at the other's cavalier tone. "Go away and leave me to my lies, you bastard."

* * *

><p>Arthur swore loudly as Alistair proceeded to manhandle him off the darkened ship.<p>

"Get back over there, you bastard." The Scot ranted, gripping the other's coat with strong hands. "Or I'll drown you."

"You're an idiot, Arthur." James added, dark eyes disapproving. "And don't think we won't mutiny over this."

The rest of the crew, realizing that the only way to get their captain back to his stern but fair self instead of this half-crazed, prone to fits of sobbing into a ratty pink gown, and less understanding and more trigger happy madman, was to get back Margaret/Matthew, nodded.

Oh, by the way, guess how many navigators died?

Too many to joke about.

* * *

><p>"Matthew, I want to say—is that a bath?" Arthur looked confused, half leaning into the room from the window.<p>

Matthew gave him a cold look. "I am about to bathe." He said haughtily. "Pirate."

"Oh come off it." The dread pirate snorted. "Pet—"

"Don't 'pet' or 'love' me." Matthew snapped, stomping forward. Then he realized what he said and he blushed and then he shook his head and just glared. "I hate you."

"Shall I take that as proof of your everlasting adoration?" Arthur grinned, good humor evaporating when Matthew attempted to push him out the window.

After a brief struggle, the two fell to the ground, Arthur sprawled on top of the blond. It was only then that he realized Matthew's eyes were red and his cheeks were hot.

"Matthew—"

"How can you come back, say such horrid things to me and then pretend that nothing happened?" Matthew shoved him off but Arthur stayed put. "Just go. Just leave me. I want you out of my life and I hope you drown."

"I left you because you wanted to leave me." Arthur interrupted, grabbing the other's wrists and pressing them to his lips. "I can't eat without your constant grimacing and complaining about weevils. I can't sleep peacefully without the threat of being murdered. I can't even find pleasure in the whores of Tortuga without thinking how much more lovely you are in a dress."

"You went to a whore?" Matthew hissed, jerking against Arthur's hold.

"I was trying to get over you, love. Try not to focus on that and realize that I'm confessing my love."

Matthew scoffed and continued to struggle and Arthur continued to hold him down. Both of them, cheeks red in exertion, grappled until the pirate snapped.

"If you really wanted me gone, you'd have yelled out."

Matthew stilled, blinking up at Arthur. And then he opened his mouth.

* * *

><p>"It's for your own good, love." Arthur said with an awkward laugh, patting the blond's cheek.<p>

Matthew was tied up on the bed with bed sheets, arms twisted behind him and ankles tied together, Arthur's scarf gagging him. The blond gave him a hateful look and said something that was muffled by the fabric.

"Now, I know you, darling. You tend to become prickly and detestable when you're upset." Arthur began, a little condescendingly. "Oh, don't give me that look. I love you all the more for it. And I know I've hurt you. I came here to see you, not to hurt you more. But as soon as I saw you, looking so much better than you were with me, I couldn't stop myself." The pirate touched his cheek. "I adore you. I wish I could've kept you with me but you wanted to leave and you would've hated me and I would've hated you and we'd have taken the world down with us, love."

Matthew leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut, finding solace in the familiar scent of sharp salt and sweet rum. Arthur finally untied the scarf that was gagging him, tossing the sodden fabric to the side.

"I wish it could be different." The boy said quietly. "But I can't. You can't."

"Don't give up so easily, love." The pirate whispered. "Let me go have a bath and we'll discuss this."

Matthew blinked, watching as Arthur began to disrobe. "That's my bath." He said, a little petulant. "And aren't you going to untie me."

"I rather like you like that." Was the response, along with a mischievous smirk.

* * *

><p>Matthew, eyes progressively narrowing, watched as the pirate bathed. Bright eyes grazing over familiar lines and scars, remembering the exact ridge of muscle and curl of hair and puckered edge of scar tissue under his fingertips as his cheeks warmed.<p>

Finally, Arthur finished, standing and reaching for a towel.

"Arthur." Matthew called softly. The pirate glanced over at him, eyebrow raised. The blond just smiled and beckoned him with an attractive tilt of his head.

Arthur seemed confused for a moment before understanding dawned on his fingers and, with a roguish grin, he raised a finger and mouthed 'patience' before grabbing his discarded overcoat and rummaging for something.

Matthew huffed and squirmed, body aching and warmth pooling in his lower belly. The dread pirate finally slunk over, reaching around Matthew, body still wet.

The blond leaned forward and kissed his neck, lips molding to the thrum of his pulse and warmth of the muscle, pressing his chest against the pirate's.

"Matthew." Arthur warned, voice husky. "I have something important, pet. Stop…distracting me." And he grabbed Matthew's bound hands, sliding something cold and heavy onto a spindly finger before untying the knots.

With a curious glance, Matthew lifted up his hand and saw the ring Arthur had slipped on.

"Took it from the Spaniard so it was already stolen." Arthur shrugged, looking away with a faint blush. "It's my color. I thought it might shut you up for a while and that it might look nice on you but you—" The pirate was cut off by Matthew bowling him over, arms wrapped around him.

"You are an idiot." Matthew shook his head, a brilliant smile on his face. "And I wish you would stop treating me like a woman."

"Yes, well, you are wearing trousers now so I suppose…" Arthur trailed off, palms coming up to cup Matthew's rear.

Matthew's smile softened, palms smoothing down the curve of Arthur's shoulders and chest, nails digging slightly and leaving jagged red lines. He breathed out, and looked up, meeting Arthur's gaze.

"You should come away with me." the dread pirate captain whispered. "You're brilliant with a rapier. You have your sea legs. How can you come back to all this posh nonsense when the open sea calls you?"

"My parents." Matthew answered, lashes lowered. "I would, but I can't."

"But—"

Matthew grinding down against him, the warmth between them unbearable. "Stop it." He commanded. "Not now, please, Arthur. I just want you to touch me."

* * *

><p>"And that's it?" James asked quietly, coming up behind the sandy-haired man. Arthur stood, leaning against the vessel wall, staring longingly at the port town.<p>

"That's it." Came the subdued response.

* * *

><p>"And that's it?"<p>

Matthew stiffened, turning to look at his mother. The woman, beautiful in spite of the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and sickly complexion, just smiled gently at him.

"You will just stand here and see him off?" The woman asked, vivid blue eyes shrewdly examining her son.

"I don't know what you mean." Matthew said firmly, turning back to the horizon. "Mother, you should be inside. It will be unbearably hot, today."

"I faced much worse, my child. The Williams family is made of a much hardier stuff." She answered. "Your sister is off gallivanting with one of the prettiest girls in the world. And you are settling because of duty."

"I really don't know—"

"You think a mother doesn't know when her child is receiving a gentleman caller?" She sighed. "You and Amelia always assumed I was ignorant."

"But—"

"You were with pirates for a year, my sweet. You're wearing stolen Spanish gold." Matthew hid his hand but his mother continued, "Just go. I do not mind being motherless if my children are happy."

Matthew just stared. Heart beat picking up and swelling. And he smiled.

And then he embraced his mother, arms wrapping around her slender frame and holding her close.

* * *

><p>"Arthur, come on."<p>

The dread pirate captain shook his head stubbornly and refused to move from the beach. He had taken the dinghy back to shore, refusing to leave Matthew, even if he swore to the boy he would leave and never look back. "I've decided we're going to burn this entire wretched place to the ground and I shall have Matthew and we will dance upon the ashes of this hell."

Alistair and James exchanged looks.

* * *

><p>"Be thankful your crew didn't see." James chided.<p>

Arthur, glowering at the pair of them and tied to one of the benches in the dinghy, remained silent. Then, perking up, he looked above their heads.

"Matthew!"

Both Alistair and James turned.

Matthew, was running towards the hidden cove where he knew Alistair and James hid the boat (because the towers could not see it in the fog), nearly slipped on the sand but managed to reach the shore, throwing himself into the oncoming tide, frigid water soaking his breeches. He waved his arms, now in waist-deep water.

Alistair reached over and tugged Arthur out of his ties and the pirate captain proceeded to jump out of the boat and swim to shore.

Of course. He couldn't swim.

So Alistair had to jump in after him and drag the dread pirate over to Matthew.

But it was worth it because Matthew tackled the sandy-haired man, lips landing on his cheeks and eye patch and lips in between mad laughter. Arthur, grinning, fell back into the water, sea foam enveloping them, clothing ruined, as he sought the other's lips.

"No dress this time." Matthew whispered, hair damp and dark gold from the ocean spray. Salt clung to his eyelashes and lips and Arthur kissed him again and then once more.

* * *

><p>Yes. That's it. It's done for real this time. I hope you all enjoyed it.<p>

Now, I did not put smut in. I did it on purpose so please no 'aww you should've written sex'. I didn't want to cheapen it so its sorta implied.

Also, this wasn't going to be a happy ending. It was going to end with Arthur and Matthew parting and living apart but with Arthur coming to visit sometimes. But that's too much like Pirates of the Caribbean 3. So, happy ending yay~ :)

How was it, all in all?


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